


The Gods Must Be Crazy (Sloppy First Draft Edition)

by Spottedfyre



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 76,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spottedfyre/pseuds/Spottedfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Dunmer wrongly accused of nine counts of murder and necrophilia finds himself on a quest to save Cyrodiil, and has many strange adventures along the way. Will include eventual slash between said Dunmer and Lucien Lachance.</p><p>-----</p><p>Please note that this is the original, unedited version of this fanfic (in all its glory?), posted in response to a request from a commenter on its more recent rewrite, and as such I have posted it with its original publication date to keep it off the front page and minimize reader confusion.  As such, it naturally contains spoilers for said rewrite, and several errors that I am aware of and have made efforts to correct in its latest version, which is probably a higher quality work overall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As this is the original, "first draft" version of "The Gods Must Be Crazy," feedback is certainly appreciated and welcome, though in some cases concerns will have already been dealt with in its in-progress rewrite. While I don't think it's a bad piece of writing, I feel that the rewrite is of a much higher quality, and would recommend this more for comparison purposes than as a stand-alone work.

Well, he'd certainly gotten himself into a fine mess this time. It wasn't that he'd never been arrested before-in his line of work it was a relatively routine occurrence-but this was the first time he'd been arrested for anything serious. To make matters worse, he wasn't even guilty this time. Well, he wasn't guilty of what they were charging him with, anyway. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of in his life, but murder and necrophilia were beneath even his standards. And he certainly hadn't murdered nine people and had his way with each one of their corpses in one night. Though the fact that he had been punished for it without being given a chance to explain himself almost made him wish he had. Almost.

He sighed, flopping down on the slightly damp pile of straw that served as his bedroll. Even if he had been given a chance to explain himself, even he wasn't sure what exactly had happened. One moment he had been wandering the Waterfront looking for work, and the next he woke up badly injured and naked in a bed full of corpses with a guard yelling at him. He could only assume that who or whatever had killed the others had wanted him dead as well for some reason, but had failed to finish the job. Not that he was going to be alive much longer, if the prisoner in the cell across from him was to be believed. Granted, the man had only told him he was going to die after he rejected his rather sad attempt at propositioning him, but that didn't make it any less unsettling. And with what he was being accused of, execution was a very real possibility.

After lying awake much too long contemplating all the possible fates that could await him, he finally managed to fall asleep, or at least he would have had someone not decided to cause a commotion in the hallway outside his cell. He tried to ignore it at first, hoping that it would just go away, but it soon became clear that he was going to be stuck awake for awhile yet as whoever it was moved closer and closer to his cell. Before long he was able to make out bits and pieces of what they were saying, something about someone being killed and a cell that shouldn't have had a prisoner in it. It soon became apparent that the last bit applied to him, as a rather well-dressed man surrounded by guards was standing outside his door. He thought about trying to make himself look presentable, or at least less like the pathetic lump that he currently was, but ultimately decided against it, simply sitting and watching as the group entered his cell.

He didn't have the faintest idea of what exactly they wanted, but hoped that this wasn't his execution. Dying would completely ruin his day… Not that it had been a good day to begin with, but death would definitely make it worse. The man in the fancy robes was staring intently at him for some reason, and since the man was definitely not a former client of his (he would have remembered someone with such a distinctive appearance), the odds of this being his execution seemed rather high. He stood as the man approached him, making his hair look as nice as possible without a mirror. If he was going to die, he intended to do so with dignity, and he did not want to look like a mess when they dragged his body away.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man finally made his way across the cell and began to speak. "I've seen you… Let me see your face." He said, invading the prisoner's personal space and laying a somewhat unwelcome hand on his cheek. "You are the one from my dreams…"

"Who are you? And what is going on here?" The prisoner asked, backing into a corner. He was not entirely sure that he liked the way the old man was looking at him, and he liked the fact that he had apparently been in the man's dreams even less. No one whose dreams involved a Dunmer of his description could be completely sane, and being trapped in a prison cell with a madman was never a good thing.

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. My sons have been assassinated, and I am next. I am being escorted out of the city via a secret escape route that leads through your cell."

"I'm Remy… And I am, or rather, I was working as a prostitute in this lovely city of yours until I got locked in here." Remy said, feeling rather stupid immediately afterwards. That was probably the worst way he had ever managed to introduce himself, and he had managed to do it in front ofthe emperor. Though at least he hadn't actually mentioned what he was currently imprisoned for. That really would have been awkward. Even so, he would officially never be able to show his face in public again. He really did have the worst luck… Maybe staying in his prison cell wasn't such a bad idea…

"Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done… it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for." The emperor replied, seemingly unfazed by the Dunmer's less than eloquent introduction.

"Right, then…" Remy said, completely clueless as to what the emperor was talking about. "What do I do now?"

"You will find your own path. Take care… there will be blood and death before the end." The emperor replied. His bodyguards then opened a secret passageway behind one of the cell's walls, and the group disappeared down the darkened hallway.

"…Did that mean I was supposed to follow him or not?" Remy mumbled to himself, staring at the newfound hole in his wall. He pondered his options for a moment, then decided that whatever was through that doorway couldn't be any worse than staying in his cell, and entered the passage.

He caught up to the group just in time to see them get attacked by a group of assassins. While he did have some rudimentary skill with a blade and destruction magic, it was clear that the emperor's assailants were far above his skill level, and his lack of a blade and any sort of armor effectively turned him off the idea of trying to help. When Remy approached them afterwards, the emperor's remaining guards all but dragged him through a gate, locking it behind them. While the emperor assured him that they would meet again, Remy couldn't help but doubt him as he sat alone in the dark with only a corpse for company.

Just as he was contemplating going back to his cell, a pair of rats burst through a nearby wall. He quickly dispatched the creatures with a blade he'd taken off the dead guard's body (she wouldn't be needing it anymore, anyway), and decided to investigate the hole they'd come out of before resigning himself to a life in prison. Miraculously, after fighting his way through several more rats and the occasional goblin, he found himself in the same chamber as the emperor again. He watched as the guards disposed of another group of assassins before jumping down into the room, only to find himself pinned against the wall with a rather sharp-looking blade at his throat. Obviously, the emperor's guards did not care nearly as much for him as their master did.

"How did he manage to find us again?" The other guard grumbled, obviously just as surprised at Remy's stroke of luck as Remy himself was. "Kill him, he might be working with the assassins."

"W-wait a moment, there!" Remy stammered, not liking the direction things seemed to be leading in. "Can't we talk this over? I mean look at me, I couldn't possibly be with them! I don't have the shiny weapons and armor, I'm half-starved, and I practically glow in the dark. What use would they have for me?"

"You are not to kill him." The emperor said. "He can help us. He must help us."

"As you wish, sire." The guard replied, begrudgingly lowering his blade.

Remy lost no time in moving as close to the emperor as was physically possible. The farther away he was from those guards, the better. Granted, he wasn't sure what sort of "help" he was meant to provide, or how safe providing said help would be, but it wasn't like he had anything better planned anyway.

"They cannot understand why I trust you. They've not seen what I've seen. How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? How They guide our fates with an invisible hand?" The emperor asked, seemingly on another bizarre tangent. Remy wondered if he was always like this, or if his mind was cracking due to all the assassination attempts. Either was likely, really.

"I'm not on good terms with the Gods…" Remy replied. Or at least, he was relatively certain that that was the case. If the Nine liked him, he doubted that he would have ended up in that prison cell in the first place.

"I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder… which sign marked your birth?"

"The Steed." Remy said, unsure of where the conversation was going. The emperor obviously had some sort of purpose in mind, but what that purpose was was far beyond his comprehension.

"The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"Aren't you afraid to die?" Remy asked. The emperor was awfully calm about everything that had happened so far, and he couldn't help but find it a bit unnerving. Not fearing death was one thing, but being so willing to accept it was quite another, and he almost wished that the old man would at least put up a bit of a fight. It would make him seem more… human.

"I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. In your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my hear must be satisfied." The emperor replied, making as little sense as ever. Remy wished he would just properly explain what was going on, and what part he was supposed to play in it, but he realized that he would have to be content with the little information he had.

"Where are we going?" He asked, hoping he could get out of the dark tunnel soon. He did not like dark, cramped spaces, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to see the light again.

"I go to my grave. A tongue shriller than all music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part."

Remy just sighed, following the emperor and his guards further into their escape route. At least one of the guards had been nice enough to give him a torch, though his happiness was short-lived as the filth he was currently surrounded by was illuminated. Assassins continued to attack them as they continued on their way, and the guards were eventually overwhelmed by a particularly large group of them. He found himself shoved into a small room with the emperor, and ordered to guard the man with his life. Exactly how he was supposed to guard the man against an enemy far better trained and equipped than he was was beyond him, but he was given little choice, and at least the room they were in looked relatively assassin-proof.

"I can go no further." The emperor said, startling the Dunmer out of his thoughts. "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings! Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

"Your Amulet? Then this is goodbye?"

"This is where my journey ends. For you though, the road is long and dangerous. Now, give me your hand."

Remy obeyed, taking the amulet the emperor pressed into his palm. Before he could say anything else, an assassin appeared from behind a false wall, slaughtering the emperor before he had a chance to react. He somehow managed to avoid becoming the assassin's next victim, taking advantage of the man's momentary distraction at the emperor's death to slit his throat. He was then joined by the emperor's last remaining guard, who elected to stay behind in order to watch the emperor's body and fend off any remaining assassins after giving him directions as to where exactly he could find this Jauffre person.

He was able to make it out of the sewers with little difficulty, and was relieved to find himself on the shore of Lake Rumare. He lost no time in washing the sewer filth off of himself, smiling as his hair returned to its usual shade of bright pink from the greenish black color it had been stained when he had accidentally fallen into a large pool of sludge on his way out of the sewer. He tied it back into a loose ponytail with a strip of fabric from the shabby clothing he had worn during his stay in prison, then simply sat by the edge of the lake for a while, staring at the amulet the emperor had given him. He briefly contemplated selling it, but decided that he did not want to betray the man who had saved his life, and had no desire to deny the man his dying wish. And with that, he set off toward Chorrol, hoping that the mess he had found himself in would be sorted out soon. After all, how hard could delivering an amulet possibly be?


	2. Chapter 2

Remy wandered through the small encampment outside what was left of Kvatch, desperately looking for Martin among the refugees as he wondered how things had gone so wrong. He had made it to Weynon Priory without further mishap, and while Jauffre had been somewhat suspicious of him at first, the man had soon accepted that his story was too ridiculous not to be true. He hadn't been thrilled at the prospect of further involving himself in whatever was going on by finding the emperor's illegitimate son, but had gone along with the plan anyway because it seemed like the right thing to do. He hadn't believed that something as insignificant as some fires in a temple were all that was keeping Tamriel safe from a daedra invasion at first, but seeing Kvatch in flames and the Oblivion gate that had opened in front of its gates had changed that.

In the heat of the moment, he had thrown himself through the portal and into Oblivion itself, somehow managing to keep himself alive long enough to remove the sigil stone that kept it in place. He had then helped what was left of the city guard to reclaim Kvatch, and somehow things managed to get even worse. He had accidentally slaughtered a guard that had run between his blade and the scamp he was trying to kill, and while it seemed that no one had noticed what he had done, he still felt incredibly guilty about it. All the other remaining guards except for one, Savlian Matius, died in the battle to reclaim the city and castle from the daedra. Remy's attempt to rescue the count yielded only another corpse, and in his foul mood he had snapped and been far too blunt when describing the count's condition to Savlian.

In spite of his outburst, he had received a rather nice cuirass in exchange for his efforts, and was finally able to start looking for Martin, wherever he was. After asking around a bit, he was finally able to locate the man, practically squealing in delight when he found him; at least he knew that all his efforts hadn't been in vain, and that there was still hope for Tamriel.

"Martin!" He cried, embracing his future emperor. "By the Nine, am I glad to see you!"

"…Have we met before?" Martin asked, obviously confused as to why a bloody, bedraggled Dunmer was clinging to him and making a mess of his robes.

"Um… no, but I've been looking for you all over!"

"…Oh, so you're the one everyone's been talking about. I heard about how you helped the Guard drive the daedra back. Well done."

"It wasn't that great…" Remy mumbled, releasing the man from his hug attack. "Anyway, you need to come with me now. You're not safe here."

"Of course I'm not safe here; no one is!" Martin snapped, "You can't have come all this way just to be redundant. Explain yourself."

"Right. I know this is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me. You're the emperor's son, and at the moment you're the only person who can stop this Oblivion madness before Mehrunes Dagon takes over all of Tamriel!"

"That is crazy. I'm just a priest of Akatosh, and my father was a farmer. I'm sorry, but you have the wrong man." Martin replied, starting to back slowly away from the Dunmer as though he believed that he wasn't quite right in the head. Granted, Remy would have been the first to admit that he probably wasn't exactly right in the head, as he had proved relatively well by agreeing to go along with this amulet business and jumping through an Oblivion gate, and that his story was somewhat difficult to believe, but after all that had just happened he would have thought that Martin would've been a bit more accepting of it all. Besides, he hadn't come all this way to be labeled as crazy and idly dismissed; the fate of the world was dependent on his actions, and he was not about to let the world down.

"You don't understand, the emperor told me about you before he died. You didn't know you were his son because no one wanted you to." Remy said, making his best attempt at puppy eyes.

"The emperor spoke to you before he died? And he told you to find me?"

"Yes! Why would I lie about something like that, I have nothing to gain from it."

"This is insane, but… I think you may be telling the truth."

"So you'll come with me?"

"Yes. Lead on."

"Wonderful!" Said Remy, leading Martin to where he had left Prior Maborel's horse. "You should probably be the one to ride him. I can probably keep up, and the future emperor shouldn't have to walk so far. It probably violates a rule of some sort." Honestly, he felt like he was about to collapse from sheer exhaustion, not to mention the numerous wounds the daedra had inflicted on him. Simple restoration spells and potions were only capable of so much…

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I can survive making the journey on foot. You look like you can barely stand… I wouldn't want you injuring yourself on my account." Martin replied, stunned that the blood-soaked Dunmer had made such an offer in his condition. "Besides, I'm not emperor yet."

"Thank you…" Remy said, somehow managing to hoist himself onto the horse. "We don't have to travel too far; Weynon Priory is just outside Chorrol."

"Right. …If you don't mind me asking, who are you? After you went through all that trouble to save Kvatch, it would be a shame if I didn't bother to learn your name."

"I'm Remy. Though honestly, my name probably doesn't matter. I don't plan to make a habit out of this heroing business. I'm perfectly content to live out the rest of my days as a nameless peasant after this is done."

"I can't say that I blame you. After all you've done, I don't think I'd want anything more to do with it, either."

"Glad to see you agree with me on that. Now then, on to saving the world." Remy said, leading them down the road to Chorrol.

"So, how exactly did you get involved in this mess?" Martin asked after several minutes of silence.

"It's a long story…"

"We have time."

"…You're not going to let me get away with keeping it to myself, are you?"

"Nope. Don't make me pull rank on you, elf."

"If you insist, then…" Remy sighed, hoping that he didn't completely alienate the man with his story. "I ran into the emperor-your father, or so everyone seems to believe-when he tried to escape the Imperial City through an escape route that happened to lead through my prison cell."

"You were in prison?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"I had a small bounty for a couple counts of thievery and prostitution." Remy replied, hoping that Martin would be satisfied with that and not ask for any further clarification.

"Strange… Don't you usually need a higher bounty than that for the guards to take an interest in you? Imperial City guards seem to be too preoccupied with catching the Gray Fox to care about smaller scale crime."

"Well, I was actually arrested for something a tad bit worse…"

"What were you arrested for, then?"

"Nine counts of murder… and necrophilia. Not that I was guilty of it, but when the guards find you in a bed full of corpses and you have no idea what happened, they tend not to care much for what you have to say."

"…Oh. I'm sorry that happened to you, then."

"Thanks. It's nice to have someone believe in me, for a change."

"Don't you have any family?" Martin asked.

"Not anymore, I don't. I never knew my father, and when I was born my mother ordered the midwife to leave me somewhere for the wolves to find. The woman took pity on me, and she and her husband raised me as their own; they were my real family. They were fairly old when they took me in though, and they've both been dead for awhile now."

"What about friends? Surely you weren't completely alone in the world."

"I used to have plenty, but I lost contact with them after I moved to Cyrodiil a few years ago. I'm on relatively friendly terms with a few people, yes, but I don't think I'd go so far as to call any of them friends."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Martin said, clearly unsure of what else to say.

"It's fine, you don't have to be. I've had a relatively good life, all things considered, and until that false arrest business I was happy enough. I like to look on the bright side of things; there's nothing to be gained from pouting over life's unpleasant moments." Remy replied, attempting to comfort the poor man. He hadn't intended to bring up such an unpleasant subject, and the Dunmer had no desire to punish him for it.

"So, where did you live before you moved here?" Martin asked, changing the subject.

"Skyrim."

"So that's what the accent is… I was having a hard time placing it."

"Most people do. I guess it just sounds strange coming from a Dunmer."

"So, what's it like in Skyrim?"

"Cold." Remy replied. "Lots of wolves, mead, and hairy men."

"And aside from the usual stereotypes?"

"It's a beautiful country, if a little bit cold. And it's home to the most kind, generous people anywhere in Tamriel, so long as you haven't insulted or offended them. And the nobility actually get of their arses and do something when their people are threatened, instead of spending months debating on it and hoping they aren't completely overrun by the time they find a solution. That's the best part."

"And what would you call what I'm doing right now, then?" Martin asked. "Should I be offended?"

"You're just a freak of nature, that's all." Remy replied. "Don't be too concerned about it."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment…"

"As you should."

The journey didn't take long, and their continuing conversation made it seem even shorter and infinitely more pleasant than traveling in silence. Remy was looking forward to washing his hands of this emperor business until he was informed by a rather distressed shepherd that Weynon Priory was under attack. Because apparently things weren't complicated enough already…

He and Martin managed to fend off the crazed assassins that had attacked the priory. Miraculously, Jauffre was still alive, but the priory's other residents were not so lucky. A check inside the main building confirmed their fears: the Amulet of Kings had been stolen in the attack. They had decided that the best course of action would be to take Martin to Cloud Ruler Temple, and formulate a plan of action after they were sure that he was secure. They made it to Bruma without encountering any more assassins, but were delayed by a slight mishap of the city gates.

The moment they reached Bruma, Remy had been swarmed by guards demanding that he pay for his accidental murder in Kvatch. How they had managed to find out what he had done was beyond him, but in the end he had sat in a prison cell for several hours until Martin and Jauffre were able to bail him out. Needless to say, neither was pleased with him, but there was nothing any of them could do about it and they decided to drop the subject. Unfortunately, the delay the Dunmer's trip to prison had caused them meant that night had fallen by the time they were able to resume their journey to Cloud Ruler Temple, and they elected to simply remain in Bruma for the night and finish their journey in the morning instead of attempting to make their way up a mountain in the dark.

\- Meanwhile… -

Lucien was in a decidedly foul mood as he approached the gates of Bruma. The new recruit he had been sent to track to down was ridiculously hard to find, and he did not enjoy spending so much time on some fool that was probably going to get himself killed on his first contract. The Dunmer hadn't even meant to murder that guard, but for whatever reason the Night Mother wanted him anyway, and he knew better than to question her will. So, he had ridden off to Kvatch to look for his target, where he had been directed to Chorrol, where he had in turn been directed to Bruma.

After "questioning" one of the city's beggars, he was able to track the Dunmer to the Jerall View Inn, and the innkeeper had been all too happy to divulge the location of his room, even offering to give him a key. Obviously, personal security was not high on the elf's list of priorities. He carefully entered said room, making sure to remain unseen and unheard, and immediately wondered if this was all some sort of sick joke.

While it was common for recruits to look rather un-assassin-like, Lucien had never seen anything quite like this before. Had the Dunmer not chosen to sleep shirtless and on top of the covers, he would have been convinced that he was looking at a woman, in part due to the elf's rather feminine face and figure, and in part due to his ridiculous pink hair. While a washbasin filled with reddish-brown water provided evidence of the Dunmer's valiant attempt at cleansing himself, he was still remarkable filthy, and had foolishly positioned himself as far away from his weapons and armor as was physically possible. If he didn't know better, Lucien would have assumed that the elf was trying to get himself murdered in his sleep. After several failed attempts at waking the sleeping Dunmer, the assassin elected to simply wait for him to wake up, left with nothing to do but watch him sleep. Hopefully he was an early riser…

\- Later… -

Remy awoke feeling refreshed and well-rested, ready to face whatever the world decided to throw at him. His good mood was somewhat dampened, however, when he noticed the shadowy figure standing over him. Unsure of what exactly their intent was, he did the only logical thing he could think of in that situation-throwing himself at the intruder and tackling them to the floor. He was stunned when his plan actually worked, his momentary distraction providing his assailant with an opportunity to flip them over, pinning him to the floor.

"Would you stop struggling? I'm not trying to harm you!" The man hissed, glaring at the Dunmer from beneath his hood.

"It's not me I'm worried about!" Remy replied, managing to wriggle free and make a move toward his weapons and armor that he had, like an idiot, left in the corner of the room farthest from his bed. The man looked far too much like the assassins that had murdered the emperor for his liking, and he was not about to sit by and watch as another Septim was murdered. Unfortunately, he didn't make it far before his attacker was on him again, pinning him against a wall this time.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I assure you that my intentions here are entirely nonviolent… So long as you are cooperative, anyway." The man whispered in his ear, pressing himself firmly against the Dunmer.

It was at that moment that Martin decided to collect his traveling companion and continue on their journey. "Come on Remy, you can sleep more at Cloud Ruler Temple; Jauffre says we need to be going hours ago, and… I'll just leave you two alone for now…" Martin said, blushing as he noticed the rather… compromised position that his friend was in. He lost no time in leaving the room, firmly shutting the door behind him.

"Damn." Remy muttered, looking wistfully at the door as he struggled in vain to free himself. Martin had gotten a completely wrong idea of what was going on, and he wanted nothing more to run after the man and explain what had really been going on, feeling as though he had betrayed him in some way. Finally, realizing that that he wasn't going anywhere until whoever had pinned him against the wall got what he wanted, he allowed himself to go limp, accepting his position. "Fine, I'll hear you out. Who are you, anyway?"

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity… to join our rather unique family."

"Please continue, Mr. Lachance. And you can let go of me now. I won't run." Remy said, breathing a sigh of relief when Lucien released him and retreated to a respectable distance.

"Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing, especially considering your earlier reaction." Lucien said, and Remy found himself blushing at the words. He'd paid little attention to the fact when he'd been convinced that the man was trying to kill him, but Lucien was rather attractive, and there was something… captivating about him when he spoke. Granted, the man was still an assassin, and could therefore have been involved in the emperor's death, but Remy doubted it, as the man could have easily killed Martin in the time he spend standing in the doorway had he wanted to. Not to mention that, from his admittedly limited knowledge of the Dark Brotherhood, they wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt to wipe out the entire Septim bloodline and risk being annihilated in retaliation. He decided that he trusted the man, listening intently to the rest of what he had to say.

"On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family." Lucien continued, looking expectantly at the Dunmer.

"Y-you don't understand, I'm no murderer…" Remy stuttered, "That guard in Kvatch was an accident, and I don't know what you heard about the other murders and necrophilia, but I swear I didn't do it!"

The Imperial raised an eyebrow at the mention of necrophilia, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the Dunmer's protests. "No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise. Allow me to grant you a gift, in case you reconsider." He said, offering the elf a wicked-looking dagger. "It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well. Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we meet again soon." And with that, he was gone, disappearing from view as walked away from the Dunmer and out of the inn.

Remy just stood there for a moment, staring silently at the knife. He had no idea why he was actually considering taking Lucien up on his offer, and halfway wondered if he had been placed under some sort of charm spell. The thought refused to leave his head, however, and he was left with the rather disturbing conclusion that he had come up with the idea on his own. Sure, he had always had a somewhat… creative interpretation of the Empire's laws, but prostitution and occasional petty thievery were one thing, and joining an assassin's guild was something else entirely. Granted, assassination would probably pay better, and there probably wasn't much more risk involved, but he had always liked to think of himself as above murdering innocent people in cold blood.

Of course, if this Rufio person had managed to get the Dark Brotherhood called on him, he probably wasn't what most people would consider innocent, but murder was still bad. Of course, if he didn't murder Rufio someone else would anyway, so it wasn't like he would be saving the man by refusing to take the contract. And attempting to sabotage the Dark Brotherhood's plans to murder the man seemed like a rather bad idea, indeed. Besides, even if he didn't go through with the murder and abstained from any illegal activities for the rest of his life, he had already been arrested for nine counts of murder and necrophilia that he didn't commit, and after that incident in Kvatch, he doubted that any guard would ever trust him again, anyway. But the guards not trusting him wouldn't justify him conforming to their expectations by slaughtering random citizens…

These thoughts continued to plague him for the rest of the day, and he was silent for the remainder of the journey to Cloud Ruler Temple. He probably should have guessed that his quest wouldn't end there, and found himself traveling back to the Imperial City to ask Baurus, the Blade that had survived the emperor's assassination, if he had uncovered any information on the group that was behind said assassination. But not before he paid a visit to the Inn of Ill Omen…


	3. Chapter 3

Remy pressed himself into a corner of the room he had rented for the night, shaking as his mind mercilessly replayed his actions from a few moments ago. He had quietly slipped into Rufio's room, closed the door behind him, and proceeded to slit the man's throat as he peacefully slept, ensuring that he would never awaken. He had then hurriedly made his way to his own room, with no one any the wiser as to what had transpired. Everything had gone perfectly; so long as he didn't remain at the Inn of Ill Omen for too long the next day he wouldn't even be questioned about the murder, let alone convicted for it. Far from the guilty feeling he had experienced after his accidental murder of a Kvatch guard, killing Rufio had left him feeling… elated, as though he had accomplished some great, honorable task. To be honest, it scared him a little.

He had felt guilty over an accidental murder that he'd had no way to avoid, and yet deliberately slaughtering a man in his sleep had no effect on him. With Rufio, he had committed the act for the sole purpose of joining an assassin's guild, where he would put a premature end to more lives, and yet he was still quite proud of himself. If anything, his actions made him want to kill again, to see if it still gave him the same thrill. He wasn't at all sure that he liked the feeling, and couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right choice. Martin and Jauffre definitely wouldn't approve, but his employment with them was far less reliable than what he could have with the Dark Brotherhood, and he doubted that anyone else would offer him a job… Still shaking, he managed to drag himself to the bed, and made a rather sad, futile attempt to fall asleep. He must have succeeded at his mission and nodded off at some point, however, as he awoke to find a familiar dark figure standing over him.

"So, the deed is done." Lucien purred. "How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family."

"What if I don't want to be?" Remy mumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face in his pillow.

"You've certainly gone to quite a lot of trouble on our behalf for someone who doesn't wish to join the Dark Brotherhood. What changed your mind?"

"I just killed an innocent man in his sleep, and I feel happy… That can't be right, can it? I've committed a murder; I'm supposed to feel guilty, aren't I?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" The assassin asked, chuckling darkly at the Dunmer's confusion. "If anything, you've proven yourself to have a bright future ahead of yourself in our family. That bloodlust of yours will serve you, and Sithis, well."

"You really think so?" Remy asked, blushing at the praise. Any doubts he had possessed had vanished at the man's laugh, and once again he felt as though he were under a charm spell of some kind. By the Nine, he must have looked stupid, like a love-stricken puppy able to do nothing more than blindly follow its master. Still, there was no helping it; he was attracted to the man, and he was just going to have to find a way to live with that. He doubted that the assassin would return his affections, and he'd just make a fool of himself if he brought it up. Besides, it would probably pass soon enough; he'd just have to find someone else to be attracted to.

"Of course. I do not say such things lightly."

"Right. So… what do I do now?"

"Now you embrace your fate." Lucien replied. "The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: "Sanguine, my Brother." You will gain entrance to the sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following… your progress. Welcome to the family." And with that, he turned away from the Dunmer, and began to make his way to the door.

"Wait!" Remy said, catching hold of the man's robe. "Don't leave yet."

"And why not? I have things to do other than chat with you, you know."

"I-I'm sorry…" The elf stammered, "I just want to make sure I understood all that properly. I go to Cheydinhal, find the abandoned house, go through the black door in the basement, and find Ocheeva, right?"  
"Yes."

"And the password is "Sanguine, my Brother"?"

"That is correct. Will you let go of my robe now, or am I going to have to leave it with you?"

"Y-yes, of course. I just have one more question." Remy replied, blushing as he let go of the garment.

"And that would be?"

"I'll get to see you again, won't I? This isn't the last contact we'll have with each other?"

The assassin looked at him strangely for a moment, then smiled, seemingly amused by the Dunmer's question. "Well, that is an interesting thing to ask." He purred, "I don't normally make a habit of visiting recruits, but you did ask rather nicely… Perhaps I'll consider making an exception."

"You will?" Remy asked, surprised that his idiotic babbling had been taken seriously. Tonight really wasn't his night for making intelligent conversation… Murdering Rufio must've made him hyper. Hopefully this wouldn't become a trend; acting like a fool every time he murdered someone was not his idea of a good time.

"Yes…" Lucien replied, thoroughly enjoying the elf's flustered reactions. Really, this was simply too fun an opportunity to pass up… "Continue fulfilling contracts for our family, and if you don't do anything stupid along the way, I may pay you a visit. Does that… satisfy you?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Excellent. You are now one with the Dark Brotherhood. Visit Ocheeva at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary and your new life will begin." The assassin really left this time, exiting the small, dark room as quickly as possible in hopes of avoiding any further delays.

Remy just stared at the door for a while, letting his mind absorb and process exactly how much of an idiot he must have looked like, and probably was. Really, who could possibly have any respect for someone who went from being disgusted at actually enjoying carrying out an assassination to being completely happy and fine with it because a person they'd come into contact with all of two times complimented them for it? He certainly didn't respect himself at the moment. Gods, when had he turned into such a soppy mess? He'd never allowed his opinion to be swayed so easily before, and there was no reason why some assassin should be so damn special that he could just walk right into the Dunmer's life and start messing with his head. He could only hope that Lucien didn't ask him to jump off any bridges soon, as if past experience was anything to go by, he'd probably do it without a second thought.

And yet, there he was, writing down exactly what he was supposed to do to complete his initiation into the Dark Brotherhood on a scrap of paper so he wouldn't forget. It was official: he was completely, utterly insane. And quite possibly masochistic, as he was clearly willing to subject himself to more of this ridiculous behavior, profitable as it would likely turn out to be. Still, he had some semblance of dignity left, somewhere. He would go and talk to Baurus first, and the Dark Brotherhood would just have to wait until he was done with that. Saving the world took priority over personal gain, and it would be a nice way to prove to himself that he still had plenty of free will left and had the ability to turn Lucien's offer down if he wanted to. He'd never let anyone take control of his life before, and he certainly wasn't about to start now, or ever for that matter.

\- Later, in the Imperial City… -

To say that Remy was nervous would have been an understatement. While the late emperor may have granted him a pardon for his "crimes", said pardon had been granted in a dark underground cavern, with only three Blades to witness it, two of which were now dead. Since he had no way of knowing whether or not Baurus had bothered to inform the city guards that they didn't need to find and arrest their escaped prisoner, or whether the guards would actually accept the man's word to begin with, he decided to err on the side of caution, not wanting to spend another night in prison if he could avoid it. Thus, he was forced to make his way to Luther Broad's Boarding House in the most ridiculous, convoluted way possible in order to avoid any encounters with guards, who would have had little difficulty identifying him as the prisoner that had managed to escape their custody. He made a mental note to find a way to hide his hair as soon as possible… it made him stand out like a sore thumb when it was visible, but if he covered it he had little difficulty blending in with the general populace, and if he could manage that it would make his life quite a bit easier.

He somehow managed to reach the boarding house without any further difficulties, and once inside Baurus was not particularly difficult to locate. The man outright refused to talk to him, however, forcing any attempt at conversation to wait until they had taken care of a stalker that he had managed to attract. Disposing of the fool was simple enough, as Baurus was more than capable of handling himself in a fight and the poor sod hadn't been expecting to be attacked from behind as well. After a quick search of the body, he located a book entitled Mythic Dawn Commentaries 1. This delightful little discovery resulted in him being sent on a quest to locate the other three volumes meant to accompany the book. One he had simply been given, one he had had to convince a Bosmer too interested in the Mythic Dawn for his own good to part with, and another that he found himself exploring the Imperial City sewer system a second time with Baurus in order to obtain it.

He cringed as yet another rat decided to attack them, coating him in yet more sewer filth than he was already covered in. Normally he wasn't too concerned with cleanliness, but being surrounded by filth that he had no interest in knowing the origins of and being attacked by creatures that had inexplicably chosen to live in such conditions never failed to confuse and disgust him. He certainly hoped that running about in sewers was not going to become a habit of his, as if current trends continued he feared that he would be forced to abandon Martin and all of Cyrodiil entirely in hopes of preserving his own sanity.

"So, was this what you were expecting when you decided to join the Blades?" Remy asked, attempting to distract them both from the muck they were standing knee-deep in.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, sewer exploration, pest control, studying elusive Daedric cults…"

"If you mean doing whatever it takes to protect the emperor, then yes, this is what I was expecting. I understand that you've sworn yourself to no such thing, but if you don't intend to take your mission seriously then you are free to leave." Baurus replied. "This is not a situation that should be taken lightly."

"Sorry… Shutting up now." Remy said, wondering what he'd done to set the man off. He supposed that if Jauffre was to be believed, Baurus probably still blamed himself for what had happened with the emperor, and he was probably hoping that he could redeem himself if he served Martin well enough. Which would probably lead to him not viewing anything that could distract him from that goal particularly kindly, whether said obstacle came from an attempt at conversation during a mission or Mythic Dawn assassins. Or maybe the man just didn't like him, though he certainly hoped that it was the former.

"Thank you."

They walked on in silence for a while before finally reaching the door that was supposed to lead them to the room where they would attempt to obtain Mythic Dawn Commentaries 4 from a member of the Mythic Dawn. Baurus had initially wanted to handle the meeting himself, but had settled for simply observing after Remy pointed out that whoever they were supposed to be meeting might recognize him as a Blade, thereby compromising their entire plan. Granted, said plan had been foiled anyway when Baurus was spotted by two other members of the Mythic Dawn, but they somehow managed to survive the resulting battle and obtain the book they needed. Of course, said books weren't going to be of any use to them until they were actually decoded, which would probably take a couple of days, so he decided to make productive use of this spare time and make a trip to Cheydinhal.


	4. Chapter 4

Remy barely managed to stop himself from letting out a most undignified and un-assassinlike whimper at the sight of the ominous door before him. He'd never cared much for dark, cramped spaces, and there was something about skeletal creatures that just bothered him, so the idea of entering a door with a rather large skull carved onto its front at the end of a dark, cramped hallway was less than appealing to him. Still, he'd come too far to turn back now because he didn't like the way the Dark Brotherhood chose to decorate the entrance to their secret hideout. Besides, it made sense for the entrance to an assassin's guild to be rather foreboding… It probably did wonders in deterring unwelcome visitors. And as far as his fears were concerned, as long as the Dark Brotherhood wasn't secretly a guild of vampire necromancers there was no reason that the inside of the sanctuary wouldn't be well-lit and skeleton-free.

Having effectively reassured himself that his decision to enter the sanctuary was the right one, the Dunmer confidently approached the door, only to leap backwards with a surprised squeak when the bloody thing talked. Yes, he'd been told that he would need to say the password Lucien had given him in order to gain admittance, but he had assumed that he would be speaking to someone behind the door, as opposed to the door itself. It would have been a handy fact to know, really. Most recruits would naturally assume that they wouldn't come into contact with any talking doors on their first visit to their new home… right? If not, there was something seriously wrong with his mind… Well, in addition to everything else that seemed to be wrong with his mind lately, anyway.

"S-sanguine, my brother?" He said, hoping that the door focused more on the words themselves than the manner in which they were said. If not, he was going to be standing there for a very long time…

"Welcome home." The door replied in its raspy, surprisingly loud voice, opening rather smoothly for its considerable size and weight. Remy took a few deep breaths in a vain attempt to steady his nerves before slowly stepping into the sanctuary, beginning his (hopefully rather successful) career as an assassin.

The door snapped shut behind him the moment he was through it, effectively finalizing his decision. Looking around, he was somewhat comforted by the fact that the sanctuary itself was much better lit than the passage leading to it, and that it had been decorated in a far less macabre manner than he had expected. In fact, it seemed rather… cozy, for lack of a better word. Just as he was wondering whether or not he should go and try to seek out Ocheeva or just wait for somebody to notice him, he was approached by an Argonian.

"Greetings!" She said, warmly embracing him. "I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you. I welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood! You stand now in our sanctuary, may it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. When you're ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new family members. But before you go, please accept this gift from your new family. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void."

"Thank you." Remy replied. "Glad to be here."

"Now, I've kept you long enough. Vicente is waiting. You'll find him in his quarters. Go now, my child, and may Sithis go with you."

"Right. May Sithis go with you, too." The Dunmer said, hoping that he'd managed to respond properly. All this 'Sithis' business was going to take some getting used to… Hopefully they'd forgive him if he slipped up on occasion; some confusion was to be expected from new recruits, right?

Eager as he was to examine his new armor, Remy figured that it would be in his best interest to introduce himself to his new guildmates first. Everyone in the sanctuary was surprisingly friendly, with the exception of a rather grumpy Khajiit, and he felt as though he really could start seeing them as family, given enough time. After he was relatively confident that he had met everyone there was to meet, he made his way to Vicente's quarters, ready for his next mission.

"Ah, there you are. So good to finally meet you." Vicente said as Remy entered the room. "Warmest greetings! I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva?"

"Yes, I have." Remy replied, finding himself fixated on the man's rather unusual features. It wasn't every day one saw a Breton with red eyes and fangs, after all. It seemed as though he was a vampire, and he almost asked the man about it, but ultimately decided against it in order to avoid sounding rude. One family member hating him was quite enough, especially considering that he'd only officially joined less than an hour ago.

"I am Vicente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members. Please, do not let my appearance… unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire. Now, if you're ready to get to work, I can provide you with your first contract." Vicente continued, satisfying the Dunmer's curiosity.

"I'm Remy, though I suppose you already knew that… And I'm ready for my first contract."

"Excellent." The vampire replied, his smile showing off his wicked-looking fangs. "Here is what you must do. Go to the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. There you will find a ship named the Marie Elena. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tussaud. He'll be in his cabin. Eliminate Tussaud in any manner you see fit. The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo on board lately, so you may be able to smuggle yourself onboard in one of the packing crates. Oh, and one more thing. Get into the habit of asking your fellow family members about any current contract. Their insight may prove invaluable."

Remy just nodded, attempting to absorb as much of the information he had been given as possible. He supposed that he should probably start taking notes on what people said to him while they were talking instead of jotting down the bits and pieces he could remember later, but that would most likely end in him getting a lot of strange looks and having to explain why he was writing when people were talking to him. All in all, it was probably better to keep doing what he was doing and accept the risk of forgetting a few details.

"Spill some blood for me, dear brother." Vicente called after him as he left the room.

"Of course, brother. I just hope it's not my own." Remy replied. "Would you like me to bring some back for you?"

"No, I've got quite enough of a supply here for the moment." The vampire chuckled, "Though I may have to take you up on that offer in the future."

"I'd be honored to." Remy said, making his way back to the sanctuary's main room. He thought about heading straight back to the Imperial City, but it was already rather late in the evening and he'd had little opportunity to get a good night's rest for the past few days, so he decided to stay the night and leave first thing the next morning. He asked around the sanctuary about his contract, hoping to gain some information on the Marie Elena, and was quite pleased when Teinaava told him about a balcony that seemed to be attached to the captain's quarters that would serve as an excellent means of escape. Having gathered all the information he could, he made his way into the living quarters and flopped down on an empty bed, looking forward to getting a good night's sleep.

He awoke early the next morning, quickly gathering his things before heading up the stairs to the main room of the sanctuary, hoping to avoid waking anyone else up. His plans were foiled, however, when he opened the door only to come face to face with a skeleton. Naturally, he did the only logical thing one could do in such a situation, screaming and firmly slamming the door in the abomination's face. As he sat there, shaking as he leaned against the door, he was stunned when only one other assassin seemed to have noticed what had happened.

"What's wrong?" Antoinetta asked, "You've gone white as a sheet. Well, I suppose really light blue would be more accurate, but there's no expression for that."

"…You seem to have a slight undead infestation going on." Remy replied.

"What are you talking about? The only undead thing in here is our Dark Guardian, and I doubt anything else would've managed to get in. Are you sure you're feeling well?"

"…You mean that thing is supposed to be in here?"

"Of course he is, silly! Why else would we have a random skeleton shambling about our home?"

"Sorry. I just wasn't expecting to see that first thing in the morning. It was rather terrifying."

"It's alright; everyone's afraid of something. Just try to keep it down next time, will you?"

"Of course." Remy said, "Though how is it that everyone else managed to sleep through that? I was afraid I'd woken the whole sanctuary."

"Talaendril left late last night, and everyone else sleeps like a rock. They have to, if they want to get any sleep with Gogron snoring the way he does." Antoinetta replied. "What are you doing up so early, anyway?"

"I'm leaving for the Imperial City." The Dunmer said. "I want to make sure I get there in time to get a good look at that ship before nightfall, and with the amount of bandits patrolling the roads it can take a while to get anywhere."

"Good luck then, brother!" Antoinetta chirped, "I hope you don't get killed! I mean, um… well, you know!"

"I'll try not to." Remy replied, making another attempt at leaving the sanctuary. Fortunately, it seemed that the Dark Guardian had wandered off when he tried leaving the room again, and he was able to make it out into Cheydinhal without further incident. Examining his new armor, he decided to only put the hood on for the time being in order to avoid looking overly conspicuous. After all, he planned to stop by the Mages' Guild to see if any progress had been made in decoding those books, and he didn't need anyone asking why he'd made such a strange choice in apparel.

He encountered relatively few bandits on his way back to the Imperial City, completing his journey with plenty of time to spare. He stopped by the Mages' Guild first, where he obtained directions as to where he could find the location of Dagon's shrine, and managed to get the location marked on his map before the sun moved out of position. With that out of the way, he spent the remainder of his day getting his weapons and armor repaired and buying a few potions, finally making his way to the waterfront to examine the ship he was supposed to sneak onto late in the evening.

The ship's deck was heavily guarded, so it was obvious that he wouldn't be getting in that way unless he planned to do it in pieces, so he decided to go and have a look at the crates Vicente had mentioned. While it seemed as though it would be easy enough to get himself smuggled onboard in one of the larger crates, it was obvious that it would not be a pleasant journey, and he had no idea how long he would have to spend waiting before someone brought him onboard. Upon closer examination of the balcony Teinaava had told him about, he felt that it would probably be his best option for boarding the ship, and it looked as though it was just close enough for him to jump to, if he was lucky. Of course, failure would result in him falling into the water surrounding the ship and making a rather loud splash, which would definitely require some explaining on his part. Even if it did come to that, however, the ship's first mate had been a regular customer of his whenever she had been in the area, and he was fairly certain he'd be able to convince her that he meant no harm if he was captured, while he'd have no such luck in attempting to board the vessel another way.

Remy decided to wait until nightfall to try and carry out his plan, and ended up spending most of that time trying to figure out exactly how he was supposed to get his shrouded armor on in the first place. After a couple hours of fiddling with its seemingly endless series of intricate fastenings, he was finally successful, though extremely confused as to how it fit him so perfectly. It was probably a result of the various enchantments placed on it, which made sense when every member of the Dark Brotherhood seemed to be given a set of it; custom-making a set of skin-tight armor for every recruit would probably have been far too time-consuming to make it worth the effort, especially when there was no guarantee that they would even survive past their first contract.

As he approached the location he planned to make his jump from, however, the time he spent getting the armor on seemed well worth the effort, as it was far less bulky than anything else he had in his possession and allowed him to blend far better with the shadows than he otherwise could have. He tried to build up as much speed as was physically possible before hurling himself at the balcony, managing to catch hold of the railing and rather ungracefully haul himself up. Picking the lock on the door proved to be a rather difficult task, but he managed to work it out after a few tries, silently slipping into what he hoped were the captain's quarters. He found the man in a deep sleep, blissfully unaware of his impending murder.

Remy decided to collect anything valuable from the cabin before dispatching the man, however, as he wanted to be able to make a quick getaway once the deed was done. Satisfied that he had collected everything he could from the room, he made his way to the bed and attempted to slit the captain's throat, simply leaving a gash in the man's chest instead when he abruptly shifted in his sleep. This, of course, woke the pirate up, and while Remy was able to dispatch the man with a few stabs in the chest, the man made quite a lot of noise during the scuffle, quite probably alerting every member of his crew to what had transpired.

Sure enough, he had barely finished removing all valuables from the captain's body when someone started banging on the door, demanding to be let in. Not wanting to be there when whoever it was finally got through, Remy lost no time in making his way back out onto the balcony and into Lake Rumare, swimming to shore with relatively little difficulty. He made his way to the All-Saints Inn, booking a room there for the night so that he could rest up and calm his nerves before making his way back to Cheydinhal the next morning. Unfortunately, upon entering his room he found that he was unable to remove his armor, and after a lengthy struggle to get his boots off he decided to call it a night and try again in the morning, hopefully with better results. If all else failed, he could just ask for help back at the sanctuary, and after he figured out how to remove it once he doubted that it would cause him any further difficulties.


	5. Chapter 5

Remy was awakened what seemed like mere moments after he finally managed to fall asleep by an unnecessarily hard blow to his head. Wondering if he'd wandered into someone else's room by mistake, he slowly turned over, forcing his eyes to open. When his vision finally cleared enough to reveal a familiar hooded figure, however, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming. Then again, if this was a dream Lucien wouldn't have decided to wake him up by hitting him, and neither of them would be half as clothed as they currently were. Yep, this was reality. What he'd done to provoke the man into hitting him when he hadn't seen him in a few days was beyond the Dunmer's comprehension, however.

"Ow…" He muttered, sitting up as he gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "What was that for?"

"You refused to respond to less violent attempts to wake you and I have better things to do with my time than watch you sleep." Lucien replied. "I also felt that you deserved some sort of reprimand for your questionable choice in ship-boarding methods."

"How do you know about that?" Remy asked, "I can't have killed the man more than a few hours ago."

"I had some business to take care of in the area and I happened to witness your attempt to fly."

"You would've thought I'd done brilliantly if you hadn't seen that. And did you really follow me here just to tell me that you disapproved of the way I carried out my contract? That seems a bit… excessive."

"I was under the impression that you wanted me to check in on you from time to time. You seemed to find my company rather desirable when last we spoke. If you don't want me here, however, I would not object to leaving…"

"Well you already went to the trouble of breaking in here and waking me up, and I'm not likely to fall asleep again anytime soon, so you may as well stay for a while. Though you really should consider the potential downsides to desensitizing your recruits to waking up with mysterious hooded figures standing over them. Seems like a good way to get them killed. Unless that's the point…"

"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have had a chance to wake up in the first place." Lucien replied. "How you managed to sleep at all without taking that armor off first is another matter entirely, however. Were you really too exhausted to bother with taking proper care of your equipment?"

"I've slept in worse." Remy said. "…And I couldn't figure out how to take it off. That helped, too. Have you considered giving out instruction booklets with each set of armor? It would probably save a lot of confusion."

"I don't remember it being that difficult to work out. It isn't the armor's fault that you are incapable of dressing yourself."

"I'm perfectly capable of putting on my own armor." The Dunmer pouted. "It's the undressing part that I have troubles with. Which is rather ironic, considering my former career… I must be losing my touch."

"Dare I ask what you're referring to?"

"You mean you don't know? I'd have thought the Dark Brotherhood would do some sort of background check on potential new members… Especially with the likelihood of revenge-obsessed madmen joining in hopes of avenging the death of some assassination victim."

"Our screening process for new recruits is taken care of by the Night Mother herself. She would not recommend that we recruit anyone who posed a serious danger to us, as she would not stand to gain anything from it. Though I certainly wouldn't object to hearing the story behind why you decided it was a good idea to slaughter a guard while surrounded by witnesses."

"It's a bit of a long story… And I'll probably sound crazy."

"We have time. And you would find it difficult to seem crazier than you already do."

"I'm glad you have so much faith in me…" Remy said, "Though before I begin, could you help me get this armor off? It's beginning to become uncomfortable."

"If this is some sort of attempt to get me into bed with you, you'll have to try harder than that." Lucien replied. "I suppose I can help you undress yourself, however, but I would advise against trying to make a habit of this."

"Thank you." Said the Dunmer, dragging himself out of bed. "And I'm afraid I'm going to have to take that first bit as a challenge."

"I wish you the best of luck, then. You'll need it." Lucien purred, beginning the process of removing the elf's shrouded armor.

Remy tried his best to be helpful at first, but after having his hands swatted away for what seemed like the hundredth time he settled for simply watching Lucien and trying to memorize exactly how each part of his armor was meant to be removed. Enjoyable as it was to be undressed by the object of one's desires, this was hardly the context he wanted said undressing to occur in and he was not particularly fond of being treated like a child, which provided suitable motivation for him to want to avoid requiring such assistance in the future. Still, he had at least gained the knowledge that there was a possibility of some form of romantic relationship developing between Lucien and himself, so the ordeal wasn't a complete waste of time. The man had acted in a semi-flirtatious manner towards him, after all, and the Dunmer had managed to avoid making a complete fool of himself this time around. Aside from the whole getting stuck in his armor bit, but he'd still done better than he had the last time they'd interacted. All in all, things seemed to be going rather well.

"You could have told me that you decided against wearing undergarments, you know." Lucien dryly remarked, abruptly derailing Remy's train of thought.

"Sorry about that." The Dunmer replied, quickly covering himself with a blanket as he inwardly thanked the gods for his fortunate proximity to a bed. "And are you implying that it's actually possible to get that on without removing your undergarments? Because I couldn't get that to work when I tried… Armor's too damn tight. Who's idea was it to design armor that shows off people's arses so well, anyway? It's not particularly good at making someone look threatening…"

"Well, I'm sure someone has managed it at one point or another, though I'll admit that it isn't likely. As for the armor, only Sithis and the Night Mother themselves know. In your case, however, armor would be the least of my concerns. I'd be more interested in finding out how in Sithis' name bright pink was my natural hair color."

"Yes, but finding out the story behind the armor is probably an easier task. Speaking of stories, do you still want to know what happened with the Kvatch guard, or have I mentally scarred you out of it?"

"It would take more than that to mentally scar me, so let's hear this story of yours."

"Well, I was enjoying an extended stay in the Imperial City prison on the night the emperor was assassinated, and his escape route happened to lead directly through my cell. For whatever reason he decided that I was somehow the best-qualified person available to stop Mehrunes Dagon from taking over the world, and that I needed to track down some illegitimate son of his so that he could get the Dragonfires relit and everyone could go on with their lives. While I was on my way to find the man, I ended up having to close the Oblivion gate that opened outside Kvatch and decided I'd be nice and help the guards exterminate any Daedra left in the city afterwards. Of course, one of them had to go and run between me and a Scamp I was fighting, and I accidentally killed him."

"…You killed an innocent guardsman because he got in the way of your trying to save the world?" Lucien asked, clearly skeptical of the Dunmer's account.

"No, I killed him because he lacked basic self-preservation instincts. I just happened to be trying to save the world when it happened."

"And you expect me to believe that the emperor randomly decided to leave the fate of the world in the hands of a prisoner?"

"Yes?"

"What exactly were you in there for? It can't have been murder, or I'd have been recruiting you before you made it to Kvatch."

"Actually, it was murder. And necrophilia. Nine counts of each. Not that I actually did any of it, but guards aren't particularly fond of asking questions and I already had a bit of a criminal history." Remy replied. "Apparently prostitution and theft have a tendency to lead to necrophilia and murder. They aren't so different, really."

"You realize that this adds no credibility to anything you've said thus far."

"I told you it would sound crazy. Don't you think that if I was going to lie, I'd do it just a little bit better?"

"Point taken. How did your world-saving mission work out, then?"

"Not so well… In fact, I should probably be getting back to that fairly soon. The Mythic Dawn aren't going to defeat themselves, after all."

"I'll leave you to that, then." Lucien said, making his way out of the room. Remy watched him leave, worried that the man had labeled him as a lunatic and intended to have as little contact with him as possible in the future. Not that he would blame him for it, but it was still rather unpleasant to think that such a promising night had been ruined because he'd had to go and start talking again. One of these days, he would really have to learn how to sound like a normal, sane person. Or stop ending up in odd situations. Either one would work really. His worries were quieted, however, when Lucien added, "I expect a report on your progress in this world saving business of yours when next we meet" before turning invisible and leaving the room.

Content in the knowledge that while Lucien may not have believed him, he was still interested in visiting him from time to time, Remy settled down for another few hours of sleep before he began his journey to Mehrunes Dagon's shrine. If retrieving the Amulet of Kings was going to be anything like his last few missions, he'd need it.

The next morning, Remy lost no time in setting off for Dagon's shrine, hoping that he'd copied its location down accurately. He made a brief stop in Cheydinhal to pick up the information on his next contract, as it was technically on his way to the shrine and if he was unable to retrieve the Amulet, he had no way of knowing when he would be in the area again. As luck would have it, Baenlin, the man he was supposed to kill, lived in Bruma, so he would be able to arrange an "accident" for the man when he returned to Cloud Ruler Temple. Everything seemed to be going perfectly until he arrived at the caverns that supposedly housed Dagon's shrine, and he encountered his first major obstacle.

While he was relieved to discover that the Mythic Dawn would be willing to allow him to get close to Mankar Camoran without bloodshed at first, the idea lost its appeal when he realized that said method would require him to give up all his weapons, armor, healing potions, and lockpicks. As he was relatively certain that the cult would not take kindly to him ruining their plans, leaving himself completely defenseless while obtaining the Amulet of Kings seemed like a rather bad idea, leaving him at the conclusion that fighting his way in was the safest option available to him. He was able to sneak past or quietly dispose of most of the guards he encountered on his way to the main chamber, and was elated to find that he would be able to get a clear shot at Camoran without alerting anyone else in the room when he finally reached the shrine itself. Unfortunately, the Altmer transported himself, along with the Amulet of Kings, through some sort of portal before he could ready an arrow, leaving behind only a book of some sort as a clue to his whereabouts. Of course, obtaining said book required him to fight an entire room of crazed cultists at once, which was no easy task, and he managed to accidentally claim another innocent's life when his removing the book from its pedestal caused a rather large statue of Mehrunes Dagon to collapse onto an Argonian the Mythic Dawn had intended to sacrifice.

Worrisome as his tendency to accidentally murder people he was trying to help was, Remy was more concerned about finding his way out of the caverns, which required him to sneak past or kill even more cultists. They were a bit like rabbits, really. Though instead of breeding new members they just found and converted them… At least it meant his mission wasn't a total failure, though. Sure, the Amulet of Kings was now quite probably beyond his reach, but at least he'd managed to significantly thin out the Mythic Dawn's numbers, which would hopefully hinder their plans long enough for Martin and the Blades to come up with a new plan. Hopefully. If not, the world was doomed. And dooming the world was not something Remy wanted to be responsible for.

He made it to Bruma in relatively good time, and while he probably wouldn't have had any difficulty making it to Cloud Ruler Temple before it got too dark, Remy was not particularly enthusiastic about telling Martin that he'd lost the Amulet, so he decided to spend the night at Olav's Tap and Tack and give Martin the news in the morning. As for Baenlin, there was no harm in letting him live another day. At that moment, his only plan was to get drunk off his ass and pass out in what he hoped would be his room.


	6. Chapter 6

Much as he wanted to put it off until morning, Remy found himself making his way to Cloud Ruler Temple before he finished his first drink, having realized that the longer he delayed the trip, the more difficult it would become. When he walked through the doors, he was immediately greeted by Martin, allowing him no time to mentally prepare for the angry outburst he would most likely have to endure. After all, he was to blame for losing the Amulet and, by extension, potentially enabling Mehrunes Dagon to bring his plans to conquer Tamriel to fruition. If he was the angry type, Remy probably would have been pretty damn angry, too.

"Ah, you're back. I told Jauffre not to worry…" Martin said, his smile fading upon noticing the Dunmer's expression of unease. "…I can see you have bad news. You didn't recover the Amulet, did you?"

"Not exactly… I did find you this book, though." Remy replied. "It may or may not be the Mysterium Xarxes. I couldn't read it, so I'm not sure…"

"By the Nine! Such a thing is dangerous even to handle!" Martin said, hastily snatching the book away from the Dunmer.

"You could've just asked for it, you know…"

"Forgive me. You were right to bring it." Martin replied. "But you'd better give it to me. I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power."

"So… can we use it to find Camoran?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I suspect that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise lies within these pages. But I will need time. Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I'll have to proceed carefully. In the meantime, you should speak to Jauffre. He was concerned about reports of spies in Bruma."

"That's it, then?" Remy asked, stunned at Martin's lack of a negative response. The man didn't even seem mildly annoyed with him…

"What were you expecting?" Martin replied, perplexed as to what the Dunmer was referring to.

"You're not going to shout at me? Call me an idiot? Tell me I've ruined our chances of ending this mess in a timely fashion? Have me beaten? Or Executed? Give me a stern-talking to while frowning at me?"

"No… Though I suppose I could if you wanted me to."

"Why not?"

"Because Dagon hasn't succeeded in his invasion yet, and if you possess even the slightest shred of goodness I have no doubt that there's nothing I could do to you that you have yet to do to yourself. Aside from the execution bit, obviously. And you are far more useful alive than dead."

"What if I was a zombie? I could chew on Dagon's ankles as a distraction."

"You'd start to stink, though. And there's no guarantee you won't have rotted by the time Dagon actually enters this world."

"Fair enough." Remy said, "I guess it's off to Jauffre, then."

"Maybe you'll get that stern talking-to of yours from him."

"But I wanted you to give me a stern talking-to." Remy pouted. "You're prettier. And you have nicer hair…"

"Just go." Martin replied, playfully tossing a scrap of paper at the Dunmer. "Before I change my mind about that zombie offer of yours."

"Fine… But if either my person or my feelings come to harm from this, I'm holding you responsible." And with that, the elf went in search of Jauffre to find out more about these spies of his. Why no one else ever got sent on these missions was another matter entirely…

From what he was able to gather from Jauffre and Captain Steffan, some strangers had been seen by a Runestone near Cloud Ruler Temple, but since they didn't want to risk leaving Martin vulnerable by sending any of the Blades to investigate, the task of their disposal fell to him. Of course, actually finding out what they were up to at this Runestone of theirs would have to wait until the next evening, and it was now far too late to make his way back to Bruma and the room he had rented so, much as he hated the thought of wasting gold on a room he didn't use, Remy decided to remain at the temple for the night.

When he returned to Bruma the next morning to see if he could find any information regarding the spies, Remy was rather confused when he was approached by a sour-looking Dunmer woman.

"Take this. It's from a friend." She said, roughly shoving a note into his hands before walking away.

Confused, Remy opened the letter to find it was an invitation to join the Thieves Guild. While he didn't really need the extra coin, and it was more likely to cause conflict with his existing responsibilities than anything else, he figured there'd be no harm in at looking into the offer next time he was in the Imperial City. He spent the rest of his day getting his weapons and armor repaired and replenishing his stock of potions, finally making his way to the Runestone at dusk.

He didn't have to wait long before what appeared to be two ordinary travelers approached the stone. Unfortunately, they noticed him almost immediately, their clothing transforming into summoned armor soon after. They weren't particularly difficult to bring down, but one had managed to leave a fairly impressive gash across his left shoulder that left behind a rather nasty-looking scar in its place after the Dunmer treated it with a healing potion. In retrospect, he probably should have gotten his armor repaired after dealing with the potentially dangerous spies, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

After reporting his findings to the captain of the guard, Remy was given to search the spies' home, as well as directions to the correct house, which saved him the trouble of attempting to use the key he had recovered from one of the bodies on the wrong house. The house itself was unremarkable, and he was unable to find anything of interest or value once inside aside from a poorly-hidden trapdoor. Said trapdoor led to a basement where he found a note explaining exactly what the two had been planning and, flattering as it was to be seen as a serious threat to Camoran's machinations, the thought of having to close more Oblivion gates, especially if more than one were to be opened at once, was rather unsettling. The basement also contained a door leading to some caverns that opened outside the city gates that, while they would be useful if he ever needed a way to enter or exit the city undetected, he would probably need to report to Jauffre in hopes of blocking them off to prevent the Mythic Dawn from using them to their advantage.

While Cloud Ruler Temple wasn't far from the entrance to the caverns, reporting to Jauffre was going to have to wait until he'd taken care of Baenlin. He had no doubt that he would be sent on some other mission after returning from this one, and staying in Bruma for an extra day would take extra time that he did not have. Fortunately, entering the Bosmer's house through his cellar was simple enough (he'd have to thank Antoinetta later for suggesting it), and made avoiding detection by his manservant much easier than it would have been otherwise. Entering the crawlspace and loosening the ties holding the Minotaur head up went all too well, and a loud thump accompanied by a squelching sound made it clear that Baenlin would not be recovering from his unfortunate "accident". While he didn't want to linger in the house for too long, a quick examination of its second floor yielded a few pieces of silver kitchenware and some jewelry, which he quickly stashed in his pack before making his escape. He quickly made his way back to Cloud Ruler Temple, dropping off the plans he had found with Jauffre and telling him about the caverns before going to see if Martin had made any progress with the Mysterium Xarxes.

"So," He said, taking a seat next to the man, "How goes the research?"

"I've made some progress with the Mysterium Xarxes, finally!" Martin triumphantly declared, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Does that mean we'll be able to get the Amulet back now?"

"I hope so. I've deciphered part of the ritual needed to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise. The Xarxes mentions four items needed for the ritual, but so far I have only deciphered one of them: the 'blood of a Daedra Lord'. In fact, daedric artifacts are known to be formed from the essence of a Daedric Lord, from whence they derive their great power. Not an easy thing to come by, obviously, but we will need a daedric artifact."

"And I take it I'm the one who will be finding this artifact?"

"Now you're catching on."

"Alright, then. How exactly do you propose I go about getting one?" Remy asked, wondering why he was the only one who ever got sent on these missions.

"The only way to obtain a daedric artifact is through the cults devoted to each of the Daedric Lords. The book "Modern Heretics" is the best introduction to Daedric cults. The library here has a copy if you need it. Remember, the Mysterium Xarxes ritual will consume the physical form of the artifact in order to release its daedric power, so don't bring me anything you aren't prepared to lose." Martin replied. "Hopefully I've made some progress in deciphering the rest of the ritual by the time you return."

"Good luck with that, then." Remy said, inwardly thanking the gods that he was in charge of going out and fetching things instead of trying to decode evil books. A quick look through the book Martin had recommended gave him the location of a shrine to Azura, where he hoped he would be able to obtain the artifact he needed.

He set out for the shrine the next morning, where he spent what felt like an eternity attempting to persuade the cultists' leader to tell him how exactly he was supposed to contact Azura and find out how to get her artifact. Said summoning ritual almost got him killed by a Will-o-the-Wisp, and he found himself on a mission to exterminate a cave full of vampires upon its completion. Said cave was located uncomfortably close to an Oblivion Gate, and while he knew that he should probably close it, he decided it would have to wait until later. A group of vampires was more than enough to fight in one day, and he did not want to be in a weakened state while doing so. It would be a brilliant way to end up dead. Or a vampire. Neither of which he was particularly eager to do.

Before he was able to locate even one of the vampires in the Gutted Mine, Remy had an uncomfortably close encounter with a swinging mace trap near the entrance. Had he not been sticking close to the wall in order to avoid detection, he probably wouldn't have been doing much of anything for a long, long time. Before he could recover from the shock of his near-serious-injury experience, one of the vampires came to investigate the noise made by the trap, curiously looking around as though trying to find what had set it off. Remy pressed himself against the wall as hard as he could, not wanting to risk a direct confrontation with a no-doubt starving vampire. After what felt like an eternity, she had yet to give up investigating the area and was standing uncomfortably close to his "hiding spot", staring intently into the darkness surrounding him. Realizing that his chances to avoid detection at this point were slim to none, Remy set her alight with a fire spell, using the time she spent attempting to extinguish herself to plunge his dagger deep into her chest, ending her life.

He moved toward the mine's entrance, crouching near the door until he was certain that none of the vampire's brethren had come to look for her before moving deeper into the mine. The second vampire he approached was unaware of his presence, and he was able to silently dispatch her with an arrow after an embarrassing misfire that fortunately went unnoticed. He made a mental note to try and improve his archery skills before attempting to use them in a combat situation again, not wanting to end up dead because of a stray arrow. The rest of the vampires went down without incident, blissfully unaware of the assassin picking them off one by one. The Dunmer made a mental note to thank Lucien for recruiting him into the Dark Brotherhood when next they met, as he doubted his attempts at sneaking would have been nearly as successful without his ridiculously convenient shrouded armor. Even if it was a pain in the arse to get into and out of.

Having slain the final vampire and retrieving anything valuable he found on the corpses, Remy made his way back to Azura's shrine. The Daedric Prince seemed quite pleased with his work, and gave him her star as a reward. Of course, said star had to be a reusable soul gem, and while he normally had no use for such things, it seemed far too useful to just destroy… Having decided to keep said artifact, the Dunmer decided to ask around Cheydinhal to see if he could find the locations of any other daedric shrines he could visit after turning in his contract. There was bound to be at least one artifact he'd have no qualms about destroying…


	7. Chapter 7

Cheydinhal seemed to be as good a place as any to start his search, and the fact that it would allow him to collect his reward for Baenlin's assassination was just icing on the sweetroll. Speaking of which, it had been far too long since he'd had one of the delightful little pastries… And he deserved a reward for being such a good boy, right? Well, apart from the assassinations, anyway. But the occasional murder was alright as long as he spent most of his time doing what Martin asked him to… Or at least, that's how it should work. No one could possibly always behave in a socially (and legally) acceptable manner. Besides, it's not like any of his targets would have lived much longer, anyway. Pirates and old men were just not safe things to be. Either way, his moral alignment was irrelevant. He was buying the first sweetroll or dozen that he came across, and that was final.

Of course, as luck would have it, there was not a single sweetroll to be found in Cheydinhal's shops, and breaking into someone's house for the sole purpose of stealing their baked goods seemed a bit… excessive. Especially since he had no way to rid himself of anything of value he could also appropriate while he was there. Maybe that Thieves' Guild really was worth looking into. He'd at least talk to whoever was in charge of recruitment when next he found himself in the Imperial City. And continue his quest for sweetrolls. Not necessarily in that order.

At least he was able to sell off most of the items he'd collected on his quest to obtain Azura's star, so the time he spent visiting every shop in the city wasn't a complete waste. His pack was still heavier than he cared to admit without the extra weapons and armor weighing him down, however, and he realized that he really needed to do something about all the extra items he was carrying around before they became a serious hindrance to him. While most of them would probably be useful at some point, he didn't need them at this particular moment, and even if they weren't weighing him down it was still a bad idea to carry so many valuable items at once. Having less to carry would probably cheer his poor horse up as well; the animal seemed to resent him enough because of the sudden increase in physical activity alone, and the more it had to carry the more resentful it became. He'd have to add house-hunting to his list of things to do, as well… Not that he'd be getting much use out of one for anything but storage any time soon, but he was going to need somewhere to live once all this Oblivion business died down, and setting up a bedroll on a street corner was not something he cared to go back to.

Asking around for information on Daedric shrines yielded several mentions of a strange door that had opened somewhere in Niben Bay, which seemed Daedric enough to warrant investigation. It wasn't as though he had a better plan. With that accomplished, he made his way to the abandoned house, quietly slipping in once he was sure no one was watching. He lost no time in making his way to the basement and into the sanctuary, pausing for a few moments after entering to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Once able to see the room around him, the Dunmer made his way to Vicente's chamber, making sure to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the dark guardian as possible. Guard of the sanctuary or not, he just didn't trust the thing… It was too damn terrifying to let his guard down around it. Why the Dark Brotherhood even needed guards in the first place was beyond his comprehension, and why they couldn't have settled for something with a bit more meat on his bones was even more perplexing.

"So, the accident has been staged, and Baenlin lies dead. Well done! You have more than earned your reward and bonus." The vampire said, aware of his presence the moment he entered the room as usual.

"So, got anyone else for me to take care of?" Remy asked, pocketing the heavy coinpurse he'd been given as he admired the rather nice dagger that was his bonus. Definitely worth the extra effort…

"As always, you fail to disappoint me. It just so happens I have another contract available, one that requires an expert in infiltration. Your target is a Dark Elf named Valen Dreth. He thinks he is safe within the walls of the Imperial Prison. He is tragically mistaken."

"Wait a moment," Remy interrupted, not entirely sure he was hearing the vampire correctly, "I'm supposed to find a way into the Imperial Prison? The same prison that hasn't seen a single successful prison break in over forty years?" Well, the figure was closer to forty days now after the Mythic Dawn incident that had started all this madness, but that hardly counted. Especially considering that it wasn't technically breaking out. He had been pardoned, after all. Were it not for the emperor's secret passage, he'd still be locked away in that cell. Assuming he wouldn't have been executed, of course. Besides, that couldn't have been very well publicized. What was one missing prisoner compared to the death of an emperor?

"You underestimate yourself, dear brother." Vicente replied, an amused smile working its way onto his face. "A prisoner recently escaped from the prison, using a set of secret tunnels connected to the Imperial City's sewer system. It's a perfect way inside. Just outside of the Imperial Prison is a grating that leads to the sewers. It has recently been tightly locked, but I will provide a key. It should be easy enough to locate Dreth in his small cell. Besides, I think you know the way, hmmm?" The question was accompanied by a sinister chuckle, and a knowing look directed at the Dunmer.

"So you know about that…" Remy mumbled, blushing a vibrant shade of purple. "Could've just said so in the first place and saved me the trouble of making a fool of myself."

"Ah, but that wouldn't have been nearly as fun, now would it? For me, anyway. Valen Dreth has been imprisoned for many years. His tongue is sharp, but his body is limp and frail. He will provide an easy, pleasurable kill. You will receive a bonus if you fulfill the contract without killing any of the prison guards. Now go, and may the Night Mother go with you."

"Consider it done. Though I'm not quite sure I agree with you on the sharp-tongued bit. I've seen children with a more impressive vocabulary of insults." The Dunmer replied, making his way back to the outside world. While he had no doubt that killing Dreth in itself would be a simple task, actually getting to that stage was going to be a challenge. Traveling through the sewers was a hazardous and thoroughly disgusting task, and having to avoid guards while he did so was only going to add to the difficulty. He'd find a way, though. If he could make it out armed with nothing but tattered clothing and a rusty dagger, there was no reason he shouldn't be able to make it back in with his current gear.

While he seriously considered heading straight to the mysterious door he'd heard about, Remy ultimately elected to visit the Imperial City first, as he really needed to deal with his excessive item situation before things got out of hand. It had nothing to do with the fact that Dreth had been the world's most irritating prison-mate. Nope, nothing at all. That would just be childish and petty. And as a Dark Brotherhood assassin and hero, he was above such things. Yes.

In a rare streak of good luck that he was sure would end in the very near future, the Dunmer not only managed to find a house for sale in the Imperial City, but one that only cost him two thousand gold. Granted, it was more of a shack than an actual house, and its location in the Waterfront district would have made it unappealing to any respectable Imperial citizen, but he didn't need much space and he was hardly a respectable Imperial citizen. It had space enough for him to store his belongings and even with the cost of upgrades it was well within his budget, so it was good enough for him.

Having settled into his new home, Remy shouldered his (now much lighter) pack and, seeing as it was almost midnight, made his way to the spot where he was supposed to meet whoever was in charge of recruiting new members of the Thieves' Guild. Upon his arrival, he was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be two other potential recruits deep in conversation with what was probably the guild's recruitment manager.

The man nodded at him when he was given the Dunmer's note and said, "Ah, yes. Another scoundrel who served time in an imperial prison. The Gray Fox is offering you a chance to join the Thieves Guild. Everyone is here now, so let's begin. Each of you is seeking membership in the Thieves Guild. The Thieves Guild is not a myth. We are followers of the Gray Fox, and I am his Doyen, Armand Christophe. Merely by finding me, you have passed the first test. It's unusual for us to have three potential recruits at the same time. Rather than the normal test of skill, I'm going to make this a contest. Methredhel, you know the rules. However, for Amusei and the newcomer, let me state them clearly. Whoever brings me the diary of Amantius Allectus, without killing him, will be invited into the guild. It's somewhere in the Imperial City. The beggars will help you locate it, for a price. I can sell you lockpicks if you need them. One more thing. You cannot kill each other during this trial. We may be thieves, but we're not murderers." Armand looked directly at Remy as he finished speaking, and the Dunmer couldn't help but wonder just how much the man knew about his other activities.

There was little time to contemplate this, however, as his competitors took off in opposite directions the moment Armand finished speaking, and he didn't want to lose his place in the guild by overthinking things. Besides, even if the guild did know that he was in the Dark Brotherhood, they obviously felt he was worth recruiting anyway, so he had no reason to worry about it. He got the location of Amantius' house out of a beggar for a few septims, and picking the lock on the door was a simple enough task. Once inside, he carefully made his way to the man's desk, slowly opening it just enough to get his hand inside and remove the diary it contained. Not wanting to push his luck by remaining in the house any longer than necessary, he made his way back to the Garden of Dareloth, skimming over the diary's contents as he walked. What the Thieves' Guild wanted with a book of notes on vampire plants was quite beyond him, but he figured it was probably best not to ask.

"Done." He smiled, handing the diary to Armand.

"Congratulations! You have returned with the diary. You have earned the right to join the Thieves Guild. You now owe your loyalty to our guildmaster, the Gray Fox. He has three rules you must follow." The man replied, pocketing the diary. "First, never steal from another member of the guild. Second, never kill anyone on the job. This is not the Dark Brotherhood. Animals and monsters can be slain if necessary. Third, don't steal from the poor. The peasants and beggars are under the personal protection of the Gray Fox, particularly here on the Waterfront."

"Sounds simple enough. What do I steal next?"

"You need more experience before I can use you on a commission job. Contribute to the guild coffers by selling stolen items to Ongar the World-Weary in Bruma, and I might have something for you. Come back then."

"Alright... I'll see you then." Remy replied, leaving the garden. He thought about returning to his home for the night (not having to rent a room was going to take some getting used to…), but he just didn't feel tired.

After a few minutes of aimlessly wandering around the Waterfront, he decided to go ahead and try his luck at assassinating Dreth. It took him some time to locate the sewer grate that marked the beginning of his quest to put Martin on the throne, but he eventually succeeded, taking a moment to mentally prepare himself for another bout of sewer exploration. The sewers were just as vile as he remembered them, and the abundance of rats, mudcrabs, and goblins within them made the journey even less present. After what felt like an eternity, he finally found his way into the ruins beneath the prison, and his troubles with the guards began. While the torches they carried meant the Dunmer would have to avoid getting too close to them, their patrol patterns were easy enough to work out, and he was able to carefully make his way around them and into his old cell, picking up a few valuables along the way.

He waited patiently in the shadows as Dreth conversed with yet another guard, not moving until he was sure said guard was well out of earshot. Once he was certain the he and Dreth were well and truly alone, he broke out of his own cell and slowly made his way across the hallway, stopping in front of Dreth's. He almost felt sorry for the other Dunmer for a moment, painfully aware of how easy it would have been for their fates to have been switched, but the memory of their past interactions was more than enough to squash the thought before it could fully form.

"What happened to getting out of here soon? Did you proposition one of the guards, too?" Remy asked, removing his hood as to ensure that the other elf was well aware of his identity.

"Wait, I know you... You… you're the one! That day the Emperor was killed! They went through your cell! You lucky bastard! But... you came back? Come on, you've got to help me! Let old Valen out of this cell! You've got your freedom, now give me mine! What do you say, huh? Come on, friend!" Dreth pleaded, his expression brightening considerably when Remy began unlocking his cell.

Once the final tumbler fell into place, Remy stood and prepared to open the door. "The Night Mother says Goodbye." He said, smiling at the look of horror on the other's face. "You're going to die in here."

"The Night Mo... No! No! Guards! Guards! Help me! Somebody help! Assassin!" Dreth cried, backing up as far as the small cell would allow him to. His pleas went unheard, however, and were quickly cut off with a rather satisfying gurgle by a dagger sliding neatly across his throat.

Having accomplished his mission, Remy quietly slipped out of the prison through the front door, with the sleeping guard at the front desk blissfully unaware of the mess he'd have to deal with when he awoke.


	8. Chapter 8

After a quick trip back to his house for a much needed wash (if the guards' reactions when he was forced to pass by them were anything to go by, anyway) and nap, Remy set off on his journey to the mysterious door that had opened in Niben Bay. Aside from a ridiculous amount of wolves intent on making a meal of him, the trip in itself was unremarkable until he realized that he'd be swimming to said doorway, which wouldn't have been a problem were it not for the unfortunate fact that said door was not visible while on the bay's shore. He left his horse at Bravil's Bay Roan Stables, leaving a fair amount of gold with its proprietor to ensure the animal was properly cared for for however long he ended up being gone for. He doubted it would be a particularly long time, but it never hurt to be cautious, especially since losing said horse would result in him having to walk everywhere. And that would have been rather inconvenient in his current situation.

His attempts to find a boat he could use to search for the door were far less successful, however, and he was forced to resign himself to aimlessly paddling about in the bay and hoping it wasn't too far from the shore. And that none of Lake Rumare's slaughterfish had decided they wanted a change of scenery. Preferably both. Though if he had to choose one, it would have to be the former. Fortunately for the Dunmer, the door wasn't particularly difficult to locate, considering its rather conspicuous location on an island largely covered in plants that weren't native to any part of Tamriel he'd seen. Even more fortunately, the door didn't seem to belong to Dagon, if the lack of hostile Daedra, glowing red clouds, and sharp rock formations was anything to go by. Which Daedric Prince it did belong to was quite beyond him, however, though the brightly colored plants and giant mushrooms seemed rather promising. Before he could approach the face-shaped portal, however, an extremely agitated Dunmer emerged from it.

"It's not right! Madness! Why? Why? Everything is wrong! It can't be done! Stay away from me! I won't go back. I won't go back! You can't make me go back! I'll kill you all! You're all going to die!" He cried, making the rather unfortunate decision to attack the guard standing outside the portal. He met his demise a few short moments later.

As Remy prepared himself to approach the guard and ask what in Sithis' name had just happened, his plans were interrupted yet again by a rather loud disembodied voice.

"Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat. Walking bag of dung! A nice effort, though. A shame he's dead. These things happen. Bring me a champion! Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies! Really, do come in. It's lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit." It shouted, presumably directing the last bit at him. Unless it actually believed that the guard was going to abandon his post and go exploring in a strange place because it was "lovely".

While the scene he had just witnessed had dampened his enthusiasm to see what was on the other side of the portal somewhat, he had come too far to just turn around and start looking for more Daedric Shrines, and approached the door. And was promptly stopped again by the guard who had inexplicably been posted on the island. At this rate, he would be lucky to make it through the portal by the end of the week.

"I'd stay back from that door if I were you. Nothing that's gone in has come out right."

"So this isn't the first time this has happened?" Remy asked, nudging the other Dunmer's corpse with his foot. "I don't suppose you've learned anything about the door while you've been out here?"

"I don't know where it came from, and I don't want to. Those who've gone in have come back out... wrong. I'm just here to warn folks to stay away." The guard replied. "Look for yourself! Their brains are addled. Got no sense! Perfectly normal people went in there. And this is what's come out."

"I'm going in." The Dunmer said, walking past the guard. Sure, it was probably a horrible idea that would result in serious injury or death, but it was just too intriguing an opportunity to pass up. He was going to see what was on the other side of that door, and that was final.

"Ha! It's your funeral. I'm just here to warn people, not keep them out. Go ahead in. I'll be here to clean up the mess when you come out."

Remy chose to ignore the guard's parting remark, stepping through the portal and into whatever lay beyond it. A few weeks later, he stepped out of the portal feeling just as, if not more confused than he had before. He'd battled his way to New Sheoth and an audience with Sheogorath himself, only to find that the Madgod had had bigger plans for him than simply sending him on a quest for a Daedric artifact; he wanted the Dunmer to help him save the Shivering Isles from the encroaching forces of Order. While he was reluctant to try to help save a second world when he still hadn't managed to save his own, Remy had realized that angering a Daedric Prince, especially in his own realm, was a very bad idea, so he'd gone along with it anyway. Everything went according to plan at first, and he'd managed to repair most of the Isles' defenses, assassinate the Duke of Mania (who'd have thought joining the Dark Brotherhood would end up being so useful?), and successfully fend off two attacks by the Knights of Order without incident.

It was upon his return from successfully putting an end to one of said attacks that things went horribly wrong, however. Sheogorath had transformed into Jyggalag, destroying his staff and the only hope of stopping the Greymarch in the process. He had then had to obtain the materials necessary to create a new Staff of Sheogorath, purify the Pools of Madness to get it into a useable condition, and, in a bizarre turn of events that he doubted he would ever understand, somehow managed to defeat Jyggalag and, in the process, become the new Sheogorath. Maybe. No one seemed to be entirely sure what exactly he was now, and to be honest he wasn't particularly concerned with finding out at the moment. Yes, he'd have to deal with it eventually, but for now Haskill was just going to have to run the Isles by himself. He'd get started on being a Daedric Prince when he was good and ready for it, and that wasn't going to happen until he was done being a somewhat ordinary mortal.

Remy lost no time in returning to Bruma and Cloud Ruler Temple, hoping that the actual blood of a Daedric Prince (even if he was one on a technicality) would work just as well as an artifact made by one. And that Martin would actually believe him when he explained where he'd been for the past month or so.

"Well, look who finally decided to come back to us! We were beginning to worry about you, you know." The Imperial said upon noticing his arrival. "I take it you've found us an artifact?"

"That depends on just how literally that book of yours can be taken…" Remy replied. Upon seeing the confused look Martin was giving him he continued, "I think I can be reasonably sure that I'm Sheogorath now. So, will the ritual still work if I just bleed on something?"

"…Please tell me this is some sort of joke."

"I'm afraid not."

"You wouldn't be horribly offended if I requested some sort of proof of this, would you?"

"Not at all." The Dunmer replied, retrieving the Staff of Sheogorath-well, technically the Staff of Himself now, but that was beside the point-and offering it to Martin. "I'd offer to use this in the ritual, but I put it together myself before I got named Sheogorath's successor, so it's not really a Daedric artifact…"

After a quick examination and failed attempt to use it himself, Martin handed the staff back to the Dunmer. "It seems real enough, and you don't seem to have had your mind tampered with, so for the time being I see no reason not to believe you. As for whether or not the ritual will work using your blood instead of a proper artifact, I don't see why it wouldn't."

"Excellent!" Remy said, and before their conversation could continue he had crossed the hall and jabbed a fork into his forearm. "Behold!" He cried, holding it aloft with his uninjured arm, "The Dessert Fork of Sheogorath!"

"You do realize that there are other ways we could have done this, right?"

"Does this mean the dessert fork isn't going to work? Because I'm pretty sure it qualifies as a Daedric artifact now… It's giving off a lovely pink glow."

"Its wielder shall never have to fear eating their meals in darkness again."

"Let us take a moment to revel in its awesome power."

There was, indeed, a brief moment of silence, but it was soon ended by a brief moment of laughter from both parties involved.

"How do you think of these things?" Martin asked, "Most people would have filled some sort of small container with blood and left it at that…"

"Most people also would have run away the moment they saw that Oblivion Gate outside Kvatch, too, you know. And where's the fun in having a puddle of blood when you could have a glowing fork? If I'm going to create a Daedric artifact, I'm going to create a proper one."

"It seems that Sheogorath chose his champion wisely."

"You know, you're awfully accepting of this Daedra business for a priest…"

"I haven't always been a priest. In my youth, I followed a different path. I know more than I want to about the seductive power of daedric magic. Let's just leave it at that." Martin replied.

"You can't just leave it at that!" The Dunmer pouted, "Whatever it is you did, I'm not going to care… You could at least tell me who you used to worship; I told you far worse things about myself."

"I used to be quite a favorite of Sanguine's… I think you can work out the rest for yourself." The Imperial said, and Remy could have sworn he saw a faint blush on the man's face, but in the dim glow the fireplace cast on the room he couldn't be entirely sure it wasn't just his eyes playing tricks on him.

"You, my friend, are going to be the best emperor Tamriel has ever seen." Remy replied. "Talos would be proud."

"You can stop that, you know. You aren't getting paid to compliment me."

"With all due respect, you're not paying me at all… If I didn't like you I'd just say so."

"I'll make sure you get some form of compensation when this Oblivion business is over with."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Either way, everything I do is on a purely voluntary basis. Whether it's slaying fearsome Daedra or complimenting my future emperor."

"Thank you, then… That means a lot."

"Right, then. Anyway, here's your Daedric Artifact." The Dunmer said, handing the glowing fork to Martin.

"Someone is going to be incredibly confused when this decides to pop up again." The Imperial mused, setting the artifact on his desk.

"Isn't it wonderful? Just imagine the look they'll have on their face…"

"It would be quite the sight."

"So, is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Isn't there always? I still haven't quite finished deciphering what we need for the next part of the ritual, but you should talk to Jauffre. He needs your help. Trouble down in Bruma, I think."

"I'll go and do that, then. Good luck on your deciphering!" Remy replied, making his way out of the temple's main hall and into whatever it was Jauffre had in store for him.


	9. Chapter 9

As luck would have it, the "trouble in Bruma" Jauffre required his help with was another Oblivion gate. Because apparently a single Dunmer armed with a dagger, a fire spell, and a substantial amount of luck was far more qualified in assisting the city's guards in closing it than, say, a Blade with better training and more combat experience. And of course, he needed to rendezvous with Captain Burd at that exact moment. Never mind that Remy couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal or full night's sleep (Sheogorath was not a patient employer… When he officially started ruling the Shivering Isles, he'd have to remember that adventurers didn't have a limitless supply of energy), or that it was rather snowy outside, because it was absolutely certain that the world would come to an end if the gate were left open for a few more hours. So, after walking to Bruma's east gate (because there was no way in Oblivion he was going to try and make it down that path on a horse in that weather), the Dunmer was greeted by the sight of a large group of guards who seemed perfectly capable of getting the gate shut without having to bring him along.

He was soon approached by a middle-aged Nord who introduced himself as the Captain Burd Remy had been sent to find before ordering all but two of the other guards to remain outside the gate to deal with any stray Daedra. Wonderful. As the Dunmer stepped through the portal, he was immediately greeted by a blast of cold, dry, and burnt-smelling air that seemed to be trying its best to choke the life out of him. This wasn't going to be any easier the second time around... Especially now that he had to drag three guards along with him, whose heavy and incredibly noisy armor would make any attempt at stealth all but impossible. If the past several weeks had taught him anything, it was that he was not suited for melee combat. Or leading people. Especially when they were relying on him to guide them through a ridiculously dangerous task he'd barely managed to survive the first time. And insisted on referring to him as "the Hero of Kvatch" for some reason. He was beginning to regret not selling the bloody Amulet and running like mad when he had the chance…

Several maulings, burnings and two dead guards later (at least he hadn't been directly responsible for their deaths this time around), a rather bedraggled Remy and Captain Burd stood at the top of the gate's Sigillum Sanguis, the Dunmer losing no time in plucking the Sigil Stone from its place and transporting them back to Tamriel. After managing a weary nod as Burd thanked him and expressed his confidence in his ability to handle any future Oblivion gates, Remy dragged himself back to Cloud Ruler Temple, reporting his success to Jauffre before making his way into the main hall to see about getting himself some food, a nap, and some form of medical attention. Not necessarily in that order.

Of course, his plan was derailed when Martin beckoned him over the moment he stepped into the room. Hoping that whatever the man needed him for wouldn't take particularly long, the Dunmer flopped down in the seat next to him.

"I have good news! I've made some progress in deciphering the gate-opening ritual," Martin said, looking very pleased with himself.

"That's great…" Remy replied, trying to smile despite being well aware that whatever the man had found was going to result in him having to do something unpleasant and painful. "What's next on our list?"

"The second item is the counterpart to the first: the blood of a Divine. This was a terrible puzzle to me. Unlike the Daedra Lords, the gods have no artifacts, and do not physically manifest themselves in our world. How then to obtain the blood of a god? But Jauffre solved it. The blood of Tiber Septim himself, who became one of the Divines. This is a secret remembered only by the Blades, passed down from one Grandmaster to the next. Jauffre should tell it to you himself."

"Got it. I'll get… right on… that…" Remy mumbled, finally losing his battle with exhaustion and slipping into sweet unconsciousness, his head making a rather loud thump as it collided with the table.

He awoke by the fireplace several hours later, a quick glance at his surroundings revealing that his armor had been largely replaced by a layer of bandages and placed beside him in a neatly folded pile, as well as the presence of a rather concerned-looking Martin on a nearby bench.

"I'm sorry," the Imperial murmured, "I should have realized we were overworking you."

"Don't worry about it," The Dunmer replied, pulling himself into a seated position with relatively little difficulty. "I just needed a rest, that's all."

"And half the healing potions and bandages in the temple. Why didn't you get yourself healed before coming all the way up here? What would have happened if you'd passed out on the road instead of in the main hall? You need to start taking better care of yourself; we'd be lost without you."

"I guess I just wasn't thinking about it… And I'm not that important. I just got lucky and managed to close a couple Oblivion gates. Anyone could have done it, really. It's just that no one else has been stupid enough to try. Don't know why they started all this "Hero of Kvatch" business, either. The city was already destroyed by the time I got there; all I did was clear a few Daedra out of the rubble."

"That may be the case, but until someone else does manage to close an Oblivion gate we can't afford to lose you. Besides, who else is going to put up with the ridiculous amount of workwe saddle you with? You've gone far above and beyond your duties as a messenger."

"Anything for my favorite emperor," Remy said, "So, am I ready to find that armor or do I need to stay put and heal for awhile longer?"

"You're free to go whenever you want. I'll continue my study of the Mysterium Xarxes while you're away."

Remy lost no time in putting his armor back on, noticing that it had been cleaned and repaired while he was unconscious in the process. He then located Jauffre yet again, only to have his hopes of performing a simple, non-life threatening task dashed when he learned that the Armor of Tiber Septim was located inthe catacombs of Sancre Tor. Which had claimed the lives of numerous Blades over the years. All of whom would have been far better prepared for whatever was haunting the place than he was. Jauffre had even outright told him that he was probably going to die in there. Apparently the Nine really, really hated him. Not that that had stopped them from choosing him of all people to help Martin sort out this Oblivion mess. Then again, they may not have had nearly much control over him anymore, if he really had become a Daedric Prince. Granted, he wasn't about to try and test that theory, but it was still a comforting thought.

At least Jauffre had also asked him to try and convince the leaders of Cyrodiil's other cities to send aid to Bruma in case more Oblivion gates opened up, so he had an excuse to avoid going after the Armor right away. Cowardly as it was, he just didn't feel ready to go charging into sealed and more than likely haunted ruins in search of a set of armor that might not even work as part of the ritual. Of course, begging for soldiers in a few cities probably wasn't going to make him feel any more ready, but it would give him a chance to replenish his supply of potions and (hopefully) make up for all the sleep he'd lost recently. Cheydinhal seemed as good a place as any to start begging for soldiers, and he still needed to pick up his reward for the last contract he'd completed, so he figured he'd stop by there first.

His attempt to gather reinforcements fell through when he found out that doing so would require closing another Oblivion gate, which he wouldn't have been physically capable of doing at the moment if he'd wanted to. After scribbling a quick note in his journal so he'd remember to come back and take care of it later, he made his way to the Sanctuary, hoping that Vicente wouldn't be too irritated with him for his prolonged absence. At least he'd fulfilled his contract before disappearing, so no clients were left waiting. That had to count for something…

"So, you infiltrated the Imperial Prison, eliminated Valen Dreth, and killed not one guard. Most excellent!" Vicente said upon, as usual, noticing the Dunmer's presence before he could announce himself. At least he didn't seem to have been bothered by the delay in Remy's return, or at least hadn't been bothered enough by it to feel it was worth commenting on.

Remy just nodded, placing the gold and enchanted scales that served as his reward into his pack. It was nice to be getting paid in septims for his work again, even if it wasn't legal. Or something he should have been spending his time on given the current state of the world.

"Would I be correct in assuming you're ready for your next contract?" The vampire asked, snapping the Dunmer out of his thoughts.

"As long as it doesn't involve sewers. Or anything else involving slimy substances of questionable origin. I don't care how much I'm getting paid; I'd like to keep my feet dry for a change."

"That shouldn't be an issue," Vicente replied, smiling in the incredibly unnerving way only he could. "I have a special contract that needs fulfillment. In truth, I don't wish to offer it to any other family member. I've come to rely on your abilities. We're usually called upon to take a life, but not this time. This contract requires us to stage the assassination of a marked man."

"So… My job is to not kill someone?"

"Precisely. You must go to the city of Chorrol and break into the house of Francois Motierre. Inside you will find Motierre waiting for you. Do not kill him! You see, Francois Motierre is a marked man. He owes a considerable sum to the wrong kind of people. So, they have sent an enforcer to kill him. Here. You will use this specially poisoned knife to stage Motierre's death, in the enforcer's presence. Motierre himself will provide more details. This is an unusual contract, Motierre had to make a special arrangement with us before it was approved. I trust in your professionalism."

"Alright, then. If you're sure I'm the right person for the job…" Remy replied, unsure of whether he was meant to take this mission as a compliment or an implication that he wasn't as good at killing as he should have been. "If you don't mind me asking, how did he manage to get this approved? Wouldn't it have been easier to just hire a mercenary or two and let them take care of things?"

"The Dark Brotherhood is not in the business of staging deaths, no matter how much gold is offered. Sithis demands blood, and blood must be paid. In order to accept the contract, we demanded a life. Motierre offered his mother, and we accepted. Lucien has already taken care of that... detail."

The Dunmer couldn't stop himself from perking up at the mention of the Speaker's name, though fortunately for what remained of his dignity Vicente either failed to notice or was simply too polite to comment on it. He had assumed Lucien had simply written him off as a lunatic after their last conversation and completely lost any interest he may have had in him. Not that Remy blamed him; he probably would've tried to avoid anyone claiming the late emperor had left the fate of Tamriel in their hands because they happened to be in the right prison cell at the right time, too. Still, if Lucien had chosen to personally involve himself in the contract, it must have been important. At the very least it meant the man had some faith in his skill as an assassin, which, considering his less than impressed reaction to the way the Dunmer had carried out his first official contract, indicated that he had been monitoring his progress since then and approved of his more recent work.

Remy lost no time in making his way to Chorrol, and Motierre's house. After spending an embarrassingly long time trying to get the damned lock on his door open, he was finally able to slip inside, where he was almost immediately set upon by what he assumed was Motierre. His job seemed simple enough: wait for the enforcer to show up, cut Motierre with the Languorwine Blade, run like mad to avoid being killed by said enforcer, and sneak into the Chapel Undercroft to revive Motierre the next day. Of course, he should have known better than to assume anything would work out that conveniently for him.

Everything started off well enough, even if the Dunmer had to disguise his amusement at Motierre's exchange with the enforcer (the entire thing sounded too much like innuendo for anyone to keep a straight face) with what he hoped was a menacing smirk. He managed to land a rather convincing fake killing blow on Motierre (or at least, he hoped it was fake) and was about to make his escape, only to find a rather displeased enforcer standing between him and the door. He then did what any rational person would do in that situation: running upstairs and jumping out a window. His landing wasn't graceful in any sense of the word, but as far as he could tell he had at least escaped unhurt, and managed to buy himself enough time to slip out the city gate unnoticed in the process. Light armor did have its advantages at times… The heavy stuff was not ideal for quick getaways.

Seeing as he had some time to kill before he'd be able to revive Motierre, Remy made his way up to the city's castle in hopes of collecting a few soldiers and justify his trip, only to be told the same thing he'd been told in Cheydinhal. At this point he doubted any city would be willing to go without a few guardswithout him closing an Oblivion gate, and he really needed to get some form of aid sent to Bruma to make sure no one became too suspicious of his extended absence, so into the gate he went. At least getting to the Sigil Stone was easier when he was aloneand therefore able to sneak past most of the Daedra instead of confronting them directly, and he was able to make it out with only minor injuries and lightly singed hair. Only to find that the Countess' idea of aid was a grand total of two guards. Still, he supposed it was better than nothing…

After a quick nap in Motierre's house, he figured he'd waited long enough and snuck into the Chapel Undercroft to wake the man up. And then fought off a small army of zombies Motierre had "forgotten" to mention earlier and managed to escort him to the Gray Mare before he "forgot" his orders to not kill the man for real. His orders hadn't contained anything about not looting the man's house, however… And he seemed to remember a rather nice wine cellar that was now unattended.

Meanwhile...

Lucien had to admit, he had greatly underestimated the potential of the Dark Brotherhood's newest recruit. While the Dunmer was about as graceful and menacing as the average mudcrab, hewas quite a competent assassin, and he wasn't one to argue with results. He had initially been somewhat skeptical of Vicente's decision to send Remy of all people on such a delicate mission, but was pleasantly surprised with the way things had turned out. The elf had proved to be a passably convincing actor, and quite masterful at running away from things. Then there was his rather convenient position as the emperor's errand boy (he still had a hard time believing the Dunmer's ridiculous story, but if the rumors going around were anything to go by it was at least partially true), which would automatically remove him from most people's list of suspects for any murder he committed.

If things continued at this rate, Remy's potential for advancement within the guild was all but limitless. And that potential combined with the elf's obvious attraction to him was something he would be a fool to not use to his advantage. At best, he could end up with a fellow Speaker under his control given enough time, and at worst he'd just end up with anothername on his list of conquests. Either way, he won. Which was why he was in Motierre's house, waiting for Remy's inevitable return for the numerous valuables the man had left behind. He didn't want the Dunmer thinking he had forgotten about him, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was setting as Remy entered Motierre's house for what he hoped would be the last time, the ornate furniture casting long shadows across the floor in its fading light. He stepped over the small bloodstain Motierre had left on the floor and made his way down the short flight of stairs to the wine cellar, paying no mind to his surroundings until he suddenly found himself pinned against a wall, a rather undignified squeak escaping him as he collided with its unyielding stone. He struggled in vain against his invisible assailant, inwardly praying to any being that would listen that it wasn't the enforcer he'd cheated returning to exact his revenge. He soon realized that he was dealing with someone else entirely, however, his fear dissipating as he caught hold of a familiar robe.

"Would it kill you to just say "hello" like a normal person instead of trying to scare the life out of me?" Remy asked, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot when Lucien dropped the Chameleon spell he'd been using. "I don't bite, you know. Unless you're into that sort of thing. And even then, I try not to draw blood."

"Well I suppose I could…" the Imperial purred, seemingly quite content to keep him pinned to the wall for the time being. "But I don't think it would be nearly as fun. Start paying better attention to your surroundings and this won't be a problem."

"Don't tell me you just stopped by to scold me again… That would completely ruin my day."

"Actually, my intention was to do quite the opposite. I am quite pleased with the rate your skills have been improving at, and I would like to offer you a reward. If you're interested, that is."

"What exactly is this reward of yours? I don't know you well enough to guess, and I'd rather not make things awkward by jumping to conclusions."

"I'm sure you can figure it out on your own…" Lucien replied, pressing himself against the Dunmer more firmly than was absolutely necessary and nipping lightly at his ear.

Remy sighed in contentment as a shiver of pleasure ran over him, blushing a deep shade of violet at the unexpected but more than welcome contact. Saving the world was all good and well, but it had been far too long since he'd been able to enjoy someone else's company. Much as he wanted to go along with the Imperial's suggestion, however, he forced himself to wriggle free of the other's embrace. "I'd love to take you up on that offer, but this just isn't the right time. This has not been a good day for me, and I don't plan on doing anything until I've had a drink and washed all the zombie bits out of my hair."

"I can't say I blame you; you look like death warmed over. And I'm afraid you don't smell much better."

"Well that was romantic..."

"As was your rejecting me in favor of wine and a bath."

"Point taken… Though I don't recall saying you weren't welcome to join me. Or that I was opposed to other activities afterwards."

"Go wash yourself then, and we'll see where things go."

Remy didn't need to be told twice, losing no time in running up the stairs to Motierre's bedroom and the washbasin it contained. After cleaning himself as well as was possible given the circumstances and "borrowing" a clean shirt and pair of pants from the man's wardrobe, he made his way back down the stairs to find Lucien waiting for him at a table with two bottles of wine. He seated himself in the chair opposite the man, ignoring the glass in front of him in favor of drinking straight from the bottle.

"How badly did things go for you today?" Lucien asked, watching with mild interest as the Dunmer gulped down his bottle of wine.

"It's been more of a bad month, really."

"Yes, I do recall Vicente mentioning something about you taking much longer than usual to collect your payment for the Dreth contract… Would you care to explain what exactly happened?"

"Well, I needed to find a Daedric artifact for my world-saving hobby, so I decided I'd take a look at that door that opened up in the Niben bay a while back. A few weeks of madly running about the Shivering Isles later, and I'm technically Sheogorath. So I made my own artifact by stabbing myself with a fork, closed an Oblivion gate, passed out, got sent on a quest to get some armor out of a tomb no one's come out of alive in years, decided to get some more guards sent to Bruma and carry out a contract or two instead, came here, rescued Motierre, closed another Oblivion gate, fought off a small army of zombies he "forgot" to tell me about, and then I figured I'd loot his house and be on my way. That's about it, really."

"You honestly expect me to believe you've managed to close three of those things by yourself?"

"Well, I had help from some guards on one of them. And the Oblivion gates are really the part you found most questionable?"

"They would certainly be the easiest part to lie about; anyone capable of carrying out this many contracts without incident would be able to come up with something more believable than becoming a Daedric Prince to explain why they'd vanished for so long. And I doubt that anyone who's had a conversation with you would doubt that you're Sheogorath."

"I don't usually sound this insane, I swear," Remy said, returning his now-empty bottle of wine to the table in front of him. "My life's just gone a bit strange lately. It's not like I asked for any of this."

"Most people would be happy about this kind of opportunity, you know. It's not every day you get a chance to save the world and become a Daedric Prince."

"Don't remind me… It's all too much responsibility for me. People are calling me the 'Hero of Kvatch' now, and I've probably got an equally ridiculous title in the Shivering Isles. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss being a prostitute. At least I didn't have any problems living up to people's expectations then."

"You were that good?" Lucien asked, skeptically raising an eyebrow as he drained the contents of his wineglass.

"Well, I like to think I still am that good, but yes. Most of my customers seemed quite happy, at least. That's got to count for something. You're not doubting my abilities, are you?"

"Not at all, my dear Dunmer… Not at all."

And with that, Remy found himself pinned against the wall a second time, though under decidedly more pleasant circumstances. The Imperial firmly pressed their lips together for a moment before biting down sharply on his lower lip, taking advantage of the Dunmer's startled gasp by roughly thrusting his tongue into the other's mouth. Not one to be outdone so easily, Remy pulled the Imperial's hood back and removed the tie holding his hair in place, tangling his fingers tightly in the liberated strands as he met the other's tongue with his own in a playful battle for dominance. Lucien groaned in what the Dunmer hoped was pleasure at the action, removing Remy's own hair tie before pulling away from him far too early for his liking.

"Not bad," he purred, smirking at the Dunmer's annoyed frown at the sudden loss of contact.

"I told you so. Now get back to what you were doing before I decide you need to pay for this. And I am not cheap."

"So impatient…"

"It's been a while. You'd feel the same if-" Remy was cut off mid-sentence as the Imperial kissed him a second time, all thoughts of what he had intended to say banished from his mind when the man abandoned his lips in favor of nipping at the tip of his ear before he had a chance to respond properly.

"Perhaps we should relocate to somewhere a bit more comfortable?" Lucien asked, leading the Dunmer to the bedroom without waiting for a response.

Under normal circumstances Remy would have protested at such treatment, and never have allowed himself to become so entranced by Lucien so easily, but for whatever reason it all felt too right for him to do anything but let it happen and enjoy it while it lasted. He pulled off his boots before seating himself on the edge of the bed, Lucien joining him a moment later. Both of them were completely divested of their clothing soon afterward, the Imperial firmly pressing the Dunmer into the soft bed beneath them.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of frenzied passion, neither party escaping without their share of scratches and bite marks. Remy was the first to wake up the next morning, carefully disentangling himself from the sleeping Imperial's embrace and dressing himself as quietly as possible in hopes of avoiding any awkward conversations in regard to where exactly their relationship, if it could be called that, was going. It wasn't that the man was a bad lover, -if anything, he was quite the opposite- and the Dunmer wouldn't have objected to enjoying his company again in the future, but he just didn't have time to commit to anything serious in his current situation. Even if he did, he had no idea what had caused Lucien's sudden attraction to him, and he would have been a fool to think the man didn't have some sort of ulterior motive for his actions. Sticking to casual sex was definitely the best course of action for the time being.

His plan to quietly slip away was foiled, however, when he tripped over one of the chairs in the room, upending the small table it sat next to in the process. The resulting noise was more than enough to wake the sleeping Imperial, who seemed to find the situation rather amusing once he got over his initial alarm at the manner in which he was awoken.

"This is an interesting change… Usually I'm the one quietly slipping away before my lover wakes up. Of course, my attempts are generally more successful than this," He said, his smirk widening when the Dunmer froze like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. "If you're that opposed to doing this again, all you had to do was say so."

"That's not what I meant to imply," Remy replied, dusting himself off as he stood in an attempt to regain what little composure he had left. "I'm definitely not opposed to any future meetings of this nature. I'd quite like to do this again, really."

"As would I… So long as you don't make a habit of trying to scare me to death in the mornings."

"I think I can manage that. Though if you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep things on a physical level for the time being."

"Things should work out quite well between us, then. Getting overly sentimental is… inadvisable in our line of work."

"That went better than expected... Any chance of you replacing that healing potion? Those things aren't cheap, you know."

"It's not my fault you didn't have anything else we could use to prepare you with," Lucien replied, "But I suppose I could give you one when next we meet."

"Thank you," Remy said, resisting the urge to point out that their tryst hadn't been his idea. He'd just have to get his next contract or two done as soon as possible.

"On the subject of healing, you should really consider getting those scars of yours looked at. The fresh ones make you far too fragile, and I'd prefer to not have so many limits on where I can touch you."

The Dunmer sighed, not pleased with the knowledge that his scarring was that extensive. He hadn't given much thought to his appearance recently in hopes of avoiding the reality of the effect his numerous encounters with Daedra and everything else the world had to throw at him had had on it. Still, he was alive, and that alone was something to be grateful for. "I'll get it taken care of once all this Oblivion business is over with. There's no sense in getting myself prettied up if I'm just going to get cut up again the next time I close an Oblivion gate."

"Fair enough. Just make sure nothing gets infected; I'd prefer to not have to find a replacement for you," the Imperial replied, pulling his hood over his head as he made his way to the door. "Goodbye, for now."

"Goodbye," Remy replied, watching as Lucien exited the house. All in all, things had gone rather well for him, and he looked forward to the next time the Imperial decided to check in on him. Yes, the man was irritating, condescending, and overly dramatic, but it was nice to have someone who didn't expect him to be perfect. Or even good, for that matter. It was definitely nice to know that someone still thought of him as a regular person, and that their opinion of him wasn't likely to change no matter how many worlds he saved. He managed to collect his belongings and make his way out of the house without further incident, and set off for Cheydinhal to collect his payment for the Motierre contract.


	11. Chapter 11

Remy paid little attention to the Oblivion gate outside Cheydinhal as he made his way back to the city, quickly making a note in his quest log to look into it when he was more prepared. Yes, getting the damn thing closed was important, but he would probably have just gotten himself killed attempting it at that moment, and he wouldn't have been much use to anyone as a corpse. Or as whatever he'd turn into when he died. If he could die at all. He'd have to see if there was some sort of guide to being a Daedric Prince he could read next time he was in the Shivering Isles. Either way, the Oblivion gate was staying open for a while longer.

He made his way to the abandoned building that housed the sanctuary almost effortlessly, the realization of how involved he had become in the Dark Brotherhood hitting him as he quietly slipped through the door. He had thought that it would take him years to become comfortable with murdering strangers if cold blood, if he ever managed it at all, but it seemed so normal after only a couple of short months. He'd only carried out five official contracts in that time, for Sithis' sake! How had his conscience managed to deteriorate so much so quickly?

He soon realized that his question could be answered with just two words: Lucien Lachance. He had completely deserted what little morality he possessed in exchange for one night with a man he found himself infatuated with. Granted, it seemed likely enough that that one night would lead to many more, but that didn't change the fact that he had gone to such great lengths for something so insignificant. And yet, somehow, he didn't feel any worse about himself for it.

Yes, he had killed people, but none of them had been completely innocent. Most of them had deserved it, in fact. Even if they all had been innocent, it wouldn't have changed any of the good things he'd done lately. His personality had remained much the same in spite of his change in lifestyle, as well; he hadn't morphed into some sort of monster because of a few murders. He still hated being in dark, cramped spaces, still lacked any kind of finesse with a blade, he still frequently missed his targets in spite of forcing himself to rely almost solely on a bow for the entirety of his stay in the Shivering Isles, talking to people without sounding like a crazed fool was still all but impossible for him, and his fear of commitment remained alive and well. He'd just gotten a bit better at sneaking and wearing impossibly tight leather armor.

The sanctuary's main room was largely deserted as Remy passed through it, its only other occupant an intently reading Teinaava. Vicente was waiting for him in his room as usual, though his expression seemed different this time around.

"Motierre was alive and well the last time I saw him, and if the enforcer died before he could tell anyone I stole his kill it wasn't my fault," the Dunmer said, seating himself on the foot of the vampire's stone bed. How the man managed to sleep on that thing every night was quite beyond him; it must've been a vampire thing.

"Ah, so Motierre has escaped? Well done!" Vicente replied, presenting him with a bag of septims, an enchanted amulet, and a key. "The well outside the house is a secret entrance to our sanctuary. I am glad to say you are now allowed access to it."

"So, what's my next contract?" Remy asked. He knew that he really should have been trying to retrieve Tiber Septim's Armor, but he just couldn't motivate himself to venture into an ancient tomb that was probably crawling with all kinds of powerful undead creatures at the moment.

"Well now, you are an ambitious one, aren't you? I'm afraid I have no more contracts for you. Our time working together has come to an end. Instead, you must report to Ocheeva, here in the Sanctuary. She will be providing all your contracts."

"Oh... If you don't mind me asking, what exactly does that mean?"

"It means that you are ready to take on contracts more difficult than the ones I give out. You are not in any kind of trouble, I assure you," Vicente replied, "Before you go, however, I intend to make good on an offer I made some time ago. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and I choose now to extend that gift to you. Shall I use my dark powers and turn you into a vampire?"

"Well, um… I'm definitely grateful for your offer," the Dunmer began, "But I really don't think I can accept it. I can't change my lifestyle for it at the moment, and I like the sun too much…"

"Yes, I can understand your trepidation. For it is not every day one is invited to join the ranks of the undead, eh? If you ever change your mind, fear not. My offer will always be open. Simply return and speak to me about the Dark Gift, and we can proceed."

"Thank you anyway… I'll be going now."

Remy then made his way back into the sanctuary's main chamber in search of Ocheeva, but was stopped shortly afterward by Teinaava, who requested that the Dunmer track down and kill one of his former associates. Seeing no reason he shouldn't agree to the request, Remy assured the Argonian he would take care of it if he ever found himself in Leyawiin, and continued his search for Ocheeva. He eventually found her in her quarters, sitting at her desk and writing something.

"Ah, greetings, I have been waiting for you. As Vicente surely told you, your time working with him has come to an end. From now on, you will receive all assignments directly from me," she said upon noticing his arrival. "In fact, your next contract is available now. In the Imperial City there lives a High Elf who must be removed from existence. Finding this person may prove… challenging. Are you interested?"

"Of course."

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Your target is a High Elf named Faelian. He lives somewhere in the Imperial City, and fancies long walks. Unfortunately, that's all we know. We don't know which district he calls home, which establishments he frequents, or anything about his schedule. This contract will require a bit of detective work. I suggest you to speak to your fellow Brothers and Sisters and see if they can offer any advice."

"I'll see what I can do. Any special requests I should be aware of?"

"Ah yes, there is one more thing. The Imperial City is also home to an Imperial Legion captain named Adamus Phillida. Do you know who that is?"

"Of course I know who he is. We knew each other on a first name basis for a while," the Dunmer replied, quickly clarifying his statement upon receiving a strange look from the Argonian by continuing, "I was working at a less than legal profession in an area he passed through on his patrol route for a while. We got quite well acquainted during that time. And not in the fun way… The man takes his job too seriously."

"Quite. He has dedicated his life to eradicating the Dark Brotherhood, and doesn't appreciate when we operate within the Imperial City. When that happens, he tends to make our lives uncomfortable. Let's not give the good captain any reason to go poking around in our affairs, hmm? If possible, do away with Faelian someplace out of the way. Definitely indoors, with no other people around. A secure location, with no witnesses. This will make it look like a simple murder, Phillida will be none the wiser, and you'll receive a nice bonus. Now go, and may Sithis go with you."

"May Sithis go with you, as well." Remy replied, making his way back out into the sanctuary. He lost no time in going in search of its other occupants, though it seemed as though they were just as perplexed as he was in regards to locating his contract. Having exhausted all his other options, the Dunmer made his way to Vicente's chamber, hoping that the vampire would have some answers for him.

"Changed your mind about vampirism already, have you?" Vicente inquired.

"I'm afraid not," the Dunmer replied, "I need some help with a contract. I'm supposed to track down an Altmer named Faelian in the Imperial City, but I have no idea where to begin."

"I'd start by asking around. The Elves of the Imperial City are a fairly close-knit community; one of them will have at least heard of Faelian."

"Well I've never heard of him, and I lived there for four years… I suppose it can't hurt to give it a shot, though."

And with that, Remy left the sanctuary and began his journey to the Imperial City. His journey to Sancre Tor was definitely behind schedule, but he didn't see much harm in delaying it until he'd completed his latest contract. It would give him a chance to ask for aid straight from the Elder Council as well, and if he was successful at that he wouldn't need to bother with collecting soldiers from the other cities, which would save him time in the long run.

After a bit of asking around, he learned that Faelian was staying at the Tiber Septim Hotel, and decided to begin his search there. He rented a room for the night, inwardly cringing at the ridiculous amount of gold it cost him, and spent the rest of the evening gathering what information on his mark he could from the hotel's other patrons. If the innkeeper was to be believed, Faelian had been a highly respected nobleman before he fell on hard times due to a Skooma addiction. He was currently being financially supported by his lover, Atraena, and spent most of his day wandering the city. An interesting story, yes, but it didn't put him much closer to finding a safe place to put an end to the Altmer.

Remy was about to try and locate Atraena and see if he could convince her to shed some light on her lover's routine, but realized it wouldn't be necessary when an extremely Skooma-addled Altmer entered the building. After a brief conversation, if it could be called that, with the elf confirmed that he was, in fact, Faelian, the Dunmer elected to simply wake up early the next morning, follow him around the city, and hope for the best. At best, he would be led straight to a suitable place for murdering Faelian, and at worst he could blame any accusations of stalking the Altmer made against him on the Skooma. Satisfied with his plan, he made his way to his room for the night, wanting to be sure he was awake early enough to put it into action.

The Dunmer awoke more than early enough the next morning, and had relatively little difficulty in following Faelian to what appeared to be an abandoned house. After that, he was left with the simple task of sneaking up behind the Altmer and slitting his throat. He then pocketed the small amount of gold he found in Faelian's pockets and the rest of the Skooma in the house, hoping that that would be enough to convince the guards that it was a Skooma-related dispute and not an assassin that had killed the elf.

It was just after noon when Remy exited the house, leaving him with plenty of time to visit the Imperial Palace and try to convince the Elder Council to send a few Legionnaires to Bruma. He noticed what he was fairly certain was High Chancellor Ocato walking down the hallway as he entered the palace, and immediately flagged him down, hoping to save himself some trouble by taking his request directly to the empire's current leader.

"Excuse me, the Empire doesn't run itself, you know. Submit a complaint to the usual department and I'm sure someone will take care of it," Ocato stated upon noticing his presence, not sparing the Dunmer a second glance as he walked past.

"Well I'm sure the Blades would like to complain about you ignoring them, especially at a time like this." Remy replied, smiling in satisfaction when the Altmer immediately stopped walking and turned around to face him. "Who exactly do I direct that to?"

"From the Blades, did you say? Jauffre sent you? What's this about? Quickly, now."

"We found an heir to the throne, and he's staying at Cloud Ruler Temple in Bruma. I'm here because we need more soldiers if we're going to defend the city and him from whatever the Mythic Dawn decides to throw at us. They've managed to open one Oblivion gate already, and we're not sure how much time we have before they open more."

"This is terrible news. Under normal circumstances, I would dispatch a legion or two to Bruma immediately," Ocato replied.

"That's great! I'm sure Jauffre will appreciate it," Remy said, thrilled at the prospect of receiving that many soldiers so easily. He had no idea exactly how many people were in a legion, but it had to be more than two, and that was all that really mattered.

"But the circumstances are not normal, are they?" Ocato continued, "I've been pleading for troops for Cyrodiil for weeks, but the generals assure me that the entire Imperial Army is already fully committed. Besides… I'd have a full-scale political crisis on my hands if I tried to pull any troops out of the provinces."

"You'll have a full-scale Oblivion crisis on your hands if Bruma gets destroyed! Are you honestly saying that you can't afford to spare any soldiers to keep our emperor safe?"

"I'm sorry, but the cities of Cyrodiil will have to fend for themselves for the time being."

"How can you say that?! Is there really nothing you can do?" Remy asked, his anger only intensifying when he received no response. "What kind of leader is too afraid of his own people to protect the last hope they have of continuing their empire? Only a milk drinker would sit back and do nothing while the world comes to an end around him!"

"Please excuse me, I have things to attend to," Ocato replied, resuming his journey down the hallway. "You can leave willingly, or I can call the guards and have them escort you out. It's your choice."

Much as he wanted to continue his outburst, Remy realized that it wasn't likely to do him any good, and he knew from experience that there were few things less enjoyable than being forcibly removed from a building by the city guards. He stormed out of the Palace and into the gardens surrounding it, kicking over a few mushrooms as he did so. After walking about halfway around the palace, he made his way through the gate to the Arena district, trying to think of a way to vent his frustrations. He had no idea what he was going to say to Martin or Jauffre when they asked him how his search for aid was going, and still couldn't believe that Ocato had refused to help them in any way, shape, or form. Hopefully they wouldn't think he was too much of a failure... He may not have had a lot to show for his efforts, but it certainly wasn't for lack of trying.

It was then that he noticed a poster for the Arena itself, and decided exactly how he was going to spend the rest of his day.


	12. Chapter 12

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you've got about ten seconds to tell me what you're doing in my Bloodworks before I lop your arms off," Owyn, the surly Redguard Remy had been directed to upon expressing an interest in fighting in the Arena, asked.

"I'd like to be a combatant," Remy replied, unfazed by his less than friendly welcome. After fighting off as many Daedra as he had, people just weren't as intimidating anymore.

"You what? You want to be a combatant?" Owyn laughed, "Look at you! My granny could beat you, and she's dead!"

"It's the hair, isn't it? I could dye it, if you'd like."

"Wait, you're serious, aren't you? What is it with you people? You walk in, want to be combatants, and your entrails end up decorating my Red Room."

"Come on, at least I'll give the other team a good laugh before I die… And who knows? I just might surprise you."

"Alright. It's your funeral. Welcome to the Arena, you filthy Pit Dog. You're free to fight, so long as you know the rules of competition. Now, let me give you your Battle Raiment. It's the uniform of all Arena combatants. Do you want a Light Raiment or a Heavy Raiment?"

"Light. Don't think I'd be able to move in anything heavy."

"A Light Raiment, huh? You sure? I figured you for the Heavy Raiment type. You know, hide behind a skin of steel? Hmph. Okay then, here. Put that on, see if it fits okay. When you're ready for a match, I'll be waiting. You want to fight, you talk to me," Owyn replied, tossing a set of armor from a nearby cabinet at the Dunmer. "Alright then. Just let me know when you're ready for a match and we can get this over with."

Remy managed to react quickly enough to catch it before it hit him, much to the Redguard's disappointment, and retreated to a dark, empty corner to change into it. It didn't fit him quite as well as his Shrouded Armor did, but it was much better than the oversized, battered Kvatch Cuirass he had been wearing in order to avoid people becoming suspicious of him. It also seemed to have a few enchantments attached to it, and didn't restrict his range of motion in any noticeable way. It was a bit on the revealing side, though. He'd worn smallclothes that covered more than the scrap of cloth he'd been given to cover his nether regions. The Arena's widespread popularity was beginning to make a lot more sense to him; it gave people a place to look at scantily-clad warriors and bloody carnage at the same time.

He wasn't particularly bothered by his lack of pants, anyway. Modesty wasn't overly high on his list of priorities, and it was nice to have a set of armor he wouldn't overheat in while the weather was still warm. Once he was satisfied that he had everything securely in place, he made his way back to Owyn, hoping that he hadn't just signed his own death warrant. He was fairly confident in his ability to defeat anyone the Arena threw at him, especially considering his position as a low-ranking combatant, but he was still far from invincible.

"You haven't run home to momma yet, huh? That's a good sign. So, you ready for a match, or do you just need some information?" Owyn asked, snapping the Dunmer out of his thoughts.

"I'm ready for a match."

"Alright, maggot. Looks like you're suited up in your Battle Raiment and all set to go."

"Enjoying the view, are we?" Remy asked, unable to resist the urge to try and make the Redguard uncomfortable. It seemed he would need to try harder, however, as all he received was an irritated eye roll for his efforts.

"You wish. The Red Room is just over there. When you're ready to get eviscerated, just head up the ramp to the Arena. Anything goes, as long as you keep the armor on and don't try to scavenge anything off your opponent's corpse if you're lucky enough to win. Good luck, and may Azura have mercy on your soul."

"I'll be seeing you soon, then," the Dunmer called over his shoulder as he walked in the general direction Owyn had pointed him in. It soon became readily apparent how the Red Room had gotten its name; its walls were almost completely covered in a thick layer of blood, filling it with an eerie red glow and overpowering coppery smell. In the middle of the room sat a large, surprisingly clean basin, presumably for cleaning up after winning a fight.

He slowly made his way up the dark ramp leading to a bloodstained door, unsheathing his dagger as he pushed it open and stepped out into the Arena itself. After he reached the gate at the end of the long corridor he found himself in, a loud voice from somewhere above him provided the audience with a few details about his upcoming match. The gate dropped almost immediately afterwards, and before the Dunmer was fully aware of what was happening the Yellow Team combatant, a female Bosmer armed with a longsword and shield, sprinted across the Arena towards him.

Her first strike was easy enough to dodge, and he took advantage of her momentary distraction caused by her blade getting stuck in the ground by moving their fight into the much larger ring outside the entry hall. Apparently his opponent hadn't learned from her first mistake, as her next course of action was to charge at him and clumsily swing her sword in his general direction again. Remy sidestepped this attack as well, and attempted to put an end to the Bosmer with one quick stab to the back, but she raised her shield just before his blade could connect, resulting in him leaving a gash across her shoulder and the back of her neck instead.

She shrieked in pain, whipping her shield into the Dunmer's face with a surprising amount of force as she stood, knocking him off his feet in the process. Remy rolled out of the way as she attempted to drive her sword through his chest, grabbing his dagger from where it had fallen as he got back on his feet. As his opponent yet again struggled to pull her blade out of the ground she had so firmly lodged it in, he pulled her head back and dragged his dagger across the exposed skin of her throat, stepping aside as she let out a small gurgling noise before falling to the ground. His killing techniques may not have been particularly versatile, but they were effective, and relatively clean to boot. Granted, the Arena probably wasn't the ideal place for a clean kill, but he saw little sense in putting himself at risk by prolonging a battle for the sake of drama. And if the cheers of the crowd were anything to go by, he had done quite well for himself. He just hoped the Bosmer hadn't managed to do any serious damage with her shield; his face was still throbbing with pain, and he was fairly sure that it was bleeding in a few places.

Fighting the urge to loot his opponent's corpse and face the punishment for it later, Remy made his way back into the Bloodworks. The washbasin in the Red Room must have some sort of healing, or at least numbing, properties, as the pain he felt was replaced by a faint stinging sensation as he washed the blood off his face and arms.

"By the Nine Divines, you did it! You actually won! You ain't so bad after all, Pit Dog. You may even survive enough matches to advance in rank," Owyn said upon noticing his return, tossing a bag of septims at the Dunmer. "Here, kid, this is your payout for the victory. There's more where that came from if you can keep on winning. Now go unwind before your next fight."

"I told you I might surprise you."

"Okay, so you're not a complete loser. Don't get cocky. Let me know when you're ready for a match and you can prove yourself to me some more."

"I'm ready when you are," Remy replied. Fighting in the Arena had been surprisingly fun, and it was nice to not have to hide the fact that he was behind someone's death for a change. It was also the cheapest and most reliable way he had to improve his skill in melee combat, and if anything it was less risky than his usual method of fighting the occasional bandit he met along the road because he knew what was coming and could properly prepare himself for it beforehand. The pay wasn't half bad, either.

Owyn sent him back up to the Arena with yet another string of insults, and Remy ended up walking straight into another Dunmer on his way there due to him focusing more on whether the Redguard's surly attitude was all for show or he was really just that grumpy.

"Sorry about that, I should've paid more attention to where I was going," Remy said.

"Don't worry about it," the Dunmer replied. "Nice to make your acquaintance. I'm… Well, my name's not important, really. I'm a combatant in the Arena. Gladiator rank."

"My name's Remy. I just joined up today."

"So you're the new Pit Dog."

"Yep."

"Welcome to the Blue Team, then," the Gladiator said, smiling warmly as he shook Remy's hand.

"You know, that's probably the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day."

"Don't mind Owyn; his bark is worse than his bite. He acts that way to everyone around here. Just think of it as his way of saying he loves you."

"At least it's not just me, then. Anyway, I should probably be getting to my match now…."

"Yes, of course," the Gladiator replied. "Farewell, friend. May your blade always strike true. And first."

Remy nodded in response, making his way up to the Arena again. The rest of his day was spent in a similar fashion, and he had made it to Bloodletter rank before calling it a day. As he walked back to his small Waterfront home for the night, he decided that he would definitely return to the Arena the next time he was in the Imperial City. The fights were getting harder, yes, but he seemed to be the only combatant that used his particular fighting style, and as long as he wasn't going up against archers he could simply climb one of the pillars in the center of the Arena and use it as a perch to pick off his opponents from a distance if things got out of hand.

He was lucky enough to find a blacksmith that was still open so late, and managed to get his weapons and armor repaired in preparation for his journey to Sancre Tor. He had put it off for long enough, and, barring catastrophe, he was going to begin his journey there the next morning. At least he was tired enough to fall asleep before he could think too much about what he was likely to encounter when he got there thanks to spending his day at the Arena, and he awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time.

Aside from a few wolves and a mountain lion, Remy's trip to Sancre Tor was relatively uneventful, and the sun was just beginning to set when he arrived. His suspicions about the place were confirmed when he had to navigate a maze of crumbling walls that was crawling with skeletons on his way in, most of which he snuck past out of fear. He had fought much worse, but, silly as it was, he still couldn't get comfortable with the fact that the things were able to move despite lacking the musculature and other connective tissue that should have been necessary to do so. At least zombies still had flesh on them…

Luckily for the Dunmer, ghosts were the primary enemies he encountered once he was inside the tomb, and the eerie glow they gave off made it possible for him to see them long before they saw him, and most didn't take more than an arrow or two to reduce to a puddle of goo on the floor. Granted, figuring out where the damned arrows had gone afterwards was not a simple task, but he did manage to locate most of them, and he wasn't about to abandon perfectly good silver arrows just because it was too dark to see properly. They were too expensive for that.

He came across another skeleton far too soon for his liking, however, and almost jumped out of his skin when a ghost emerged from its remains after he had sent it clattering to pieces on the floor. This ghost proved to be decidedly friendlier than the others he had encountered, however, and revealed itself to be one of four ancient Blades that had been cursed along with the tomb back in Tiber Septim's day. The only way to collect the Armor of Tiber Septim was to free the other three Blades, which Remy went about doing as soon as he finished scavenging everything of value from the ghost's earthly remains.

He managed to locate and free the souls of the remaining Blades without too much trouble, and while he was still opposed to having to fight skeletons in the future, at least he managed to collect a few nice enchanted objects from their scattered remains. Yes, it probably wasn't the right way to treat the corpses of such honorable warriors, but their ghosts didn't seemed to be bothered by it and the gold he could get by reselling everything was too tempting to resist. Once the Blades had purified Tiber Septim's shrine, all Remy had to do was collect the armor and walk out the way he had come in, a task that he lost no time in completing.

After a restless night spent trying to get comfortable on the rocky, uneven hillside surrounding Sancre Tor and hoping that he'd moved far enough away from it for its remaining skeletal guardians to leave him alone, Remy set off for Cloud Ruler Temple. Martin was sitting at his usual spot in the main hall when the Dunmer arrived, poring over the Mysterium Xarxes and furiously scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"Any luck?" Remy asked, taking his usual seat across the table from the Imperial and setting the Armor of Tiber Septim on top of the pile of books that had taken up residence on it. "Because I managed to collect the Armor without getting myself killed, and it's probably for the best that I collect the rest of the things we need before I develop a sense of self-preservation."

"The Septim blood may flow through my veins, but you have the soul of a hero. The Armor of Tiber Septim himself! Jauffre will be amazed to see it. You can reassure Jauffre that I will not destroy the armor. All I need is a scraping of Talos' divine blood. The Blades are as touchy as priests about relics of Tiber Septim, it seems!" Martin replied, his expression of joy turning to a puzzled frown as he asked, "How in Oblivion are you not freezing to death in that armor?"

"I grew up in Skyrim, remember? And I've been wearing revealing clothing fairly regularly for the past few years. You get used to it after a while."

"Right… Anyway, while you were gone, I made some progress in deciphering the Mysterium Xarxes ritual. The third item we need is a Great Welkynd Stone. You may have run across lesser Welkynd Stones; they are fairly common in Ayleid ruins. But a Great Welkynd Stone will not be easy to come by. They have been plundered one by one over the years, due to their great value to mages and occultists. There is only one place that is rumored to still contain one: the ruins of the Ayleid city of Miscarcand. A place where many have perished seeking its Great Stone. But nothing else will do, so you must succeed where all others have failed."

"Another suicide mission… Just what I wanted to do. Tell me, is this really necessary for us to get the Amulet back, or do you just want me dead?"

"I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but there really is no other way to get the things we need," Martin replied. "I tried to convince Jauffre to send someone else after it, but he insisted that we need to keep every last member of the Blades here for me to be safe."

"So that's why I have to do everything around here… It's alright, though, I'll take care of it. I take it Miscarcand is also going to be crawling with undead?"

"It is said that the ruins are still haunted by the vengeful spirit of its last king. And if he is still there, he probably isn't alone. True or not, it is not a place to enter lightly. Be careful."

"I'll do my best," Remy replied, "And throw a book at Jauffre's head for me next time you see him, if you don't mind."

"I'll throw as many books as you want at whoever you like, so long as you make it out of this alive," Martin said. "I know you have braved many dangers already, but Miscarcand is not to be taken lightly."

"Now when have I ever taken something lightly? You haven't managed to kill me so far; what makes this any different?" Remy asked, attempting to lighten the grim mood that had settled over them. He definitely wasn't happy about his current mission, but Martin wasn't the person to take his frustrations out on, and the man had more than enough to worry about already.

The Dunmer then left the temple and made his way back into Bruma, trying to think of anything but his upcoming journey to yet another undead-infested hole in the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

Lucien had had just about enough of the accursed Oblivion Gate outside Cheydinhal. It made travel to and from the city ridiculously difficult, he was rather irritated by the red glow the clouds it conjured up cast on the area surrounding it, and he was quite tired of having to kill the stray Daedra that never failed to attack him when he passed it. Not that disposing of them was a challenge; he just had better things to do with his time than dispatching the suicidal creatures. He was also not particularly fond of the possibility that Cheydinhal could turn into a second Kvatch with the gate left open, and the residents of his sanctuary were becoming increasingly reluctant to travel.

Why Remy had yet to close the thing was beyond his comprehension, much like just about everything else relating to the Dunmer, and while he was sure he could convince Remy to close it the next time they met, he wasn't sure if the wait was worth it. There was some inherent risk involved in trying to get it closed himself, but the same could be said for just about everything else he did on a regular basis, and the Count would no doubt offer him a sizeable reward in exchange for his son's safe return. It wouldn't be a particularly difficult task, either; all he had to do was climb a tower and grab the Sigil Stone it contained and he'd end up safely back in Tamriel with any other non-Daedric occupants of the gate. Besides, if Remy was capable of closing three Oblivion gates, there was no reason he couldn't manage to close one. It was in his own best interests to close the gate for the Dunmer, anyway.

Bizarre as his methods could be, Remy was a relatively valuable member of the Dark Brotherhood, and with their current traitor problem the last thing he needed was a semi-competent assassin dying on him in a non work-related fashion. The Dunmer may have been lucky so far, but everyone had a finite limit on the number of times they could be partially shredded and live to tell the tale. It was also nice to have found a lover that didn't insist on excessive displays of affection, demand any sort of serious commitment, or require false confessions of love to get into bed, and he intended to keep him for as long as possible. Which would be difficult if said lover ended up as a corpse.

After tethering Shadowmere to a nearby tree to ensure she didn't get bored and wander off, the Imperial stepped through the surprisingly cool flames of the gate, hoping it wouldn't take too long to close it and get back to his duties as a Speaker.

\- Later… -

After taking one too many fireballs to the face form the flame atronachs surrounding is borders, Remy decided it was finally time to close the damned Oblivion gate outside Cheydinhal. Of course, a conversation with the guards outside it revealed that he was expected to rescue the Count's idiot son, Farwil, and his company of incompetent knights (or what was left of them anyway) in addition to closing said gate. If his current record was anything to go by, he'd have been lucky to if he managed to bring the boy's corpse back, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to try. He'd just have to be very careful and make sure that Farwil didn't run off in pursuit of every Daedra he saw like most guards were prone to doing.

Aside from the occasional corpse of one of Farwil's companions, Remy seemed to be alone in that particular section of Oblivion. The few Daedra he had come across were already dead, though their wounds didn't match any of the weapons he'd found on the remains of the Knights of the Thorn he'd found. Not that he was complaining, of course, but he was still uncomfortable with the thought that he wasn't alone on his mission to close the gate. With the reward that was being offered for Farwil's safe return, it wasn't likely that his competition would be overly friendly, either, and it would be easy to blame a murder committed in Oblivion on its numerous Daedric residents.

After climbing down a seemingly endless series of rocks, Remy came across the first live Daedra he'd seen since entering the gate. There were two of them, both robed Dremora, though one was significantly shorter than any he'd encountered before. He decided to kill the little one first, as the bigger one's attacks would be easier to dodge, but before he could take a shot at it it started behaving strangely. It seemed to be hiding from the larger Dremora, and only made its presence known after it had mortally wounded its companion.

He slowly approached the Dremora, soon realizing that it wasn't a Dremora at all, and immediately felt stupid for not realizing what he'd been looking at earlier. He returned his arrow to its quiver, not wanting whoever he was sharing the Oblivion gate with get the wrong idea and start an unnecessary fight, only to find himself shoved against a boulder with a knife at this throat before he could make his presence known. It certainly wasn't a pleasant experience, but it wasn't as jarring as it used to be, and at least it was being done by someone he was relatively friendly with.

"It's about time you got here," Lucien said, releasing the Dunmer.

"Your greeting could still use some work, you know. If this is the reward I get for being aware of my surroundings, I don't think I'll be doing it again," Remy replied.

"I had no idea who or what you were until a moment ago. In case you didn't notice, you were standing behind me, and contrary to popular belief I do not have eyes in the back of my head."

"Have you considered a smaller hood? That thing can't be easy to see out of."

"You're quite calm for someone who almost just got himself killed."

"I've gotten used to it, really. It's pretty much an everyday occurrence at the moment."

"I noticed… And I'm beginning to understand why you've been putting this off for so long," Lucien replied, "How in Sithis' name have you survived going through so many of these?"

"Sheer dumb luck. It's nice to have company this time around, though. Granted, most of my company usually dies on me before we can make it all the way to the sigil stone, but you don't seem like the type to charge blindly into a room full of Daedra, so you should be fine. Don't suppose you've run into the Count's son, have you? He's the one I'm worried about."

"Unless he happens to be a Daedra, no."

"Damn. Hopefully he didn't wander too much farther in… If his friends are anything to go by, he doesn't have long to live if he doesn't get some sort of help."

"We'd best get going, then."

"You're really coming with me?" Remy asked, "I didn't take you for the heroic type."

"I'm not," Lucien replied, "It's in my own best interest to make sure you don't get yourself killed on the account of some idiot, Count's son or not."

"So, does this mean I'm not an idiot anymore?"

"Of course not. You just happen to be my idiot. And a somewhat useful one."

"And you're my grumpy Speaker," Remy replied, setting off in what he hoped was Farwil's general direction.

Lucien just sighed, following the Dunmer along the rocky path that wound its way through the plane of Oblivion. After a few minutes of walking, they finally found Farwil and his last remaining companion huddling in the small amount of shelter a doorway carved into the face of the rock provided. After a brief discussion he agreed to stay out of their sight in order to avoid frightening them, finding a reasonably flat rock to sit on and observe how the Dunmer handled the situation.

Everything seemed to go well enough at first, with Remy listening patiently enough to Farwil's embellished drivel. The Dunmer soon became much less patient, however, when Farwil insisted on accompanying him through the large tower that lay across a bridge from their present location. When attempting to reason with the boy by suggesting he guard the bridge instead failed Remy paused for a moment, and Lucien assumed he would just let Farwil go with him and hope for the best until the Dunmer suddenly and quite unexpectedly slammed Farwil against the doorway they were standing in and snarled something into his ear before stalking off across the bridge.

Lucien waited until he was sure Farwil wouldn't attempt to follow Remy anyway before making his own way across the bridge under the cover of a Chameleon spell. He found the Dunmer hacking ineffectually away at a heavily-armored Dremora near the bridge's opposite end, and decided to make his presence known by dropping the Chameleon spell as he put an end to the creature with a well-placed thrust of his shortsword.

"Show-off," Remy said, his attempt at looking irritated ruined by the smile slowly working its way across his ash-stained face. Having someone with him in Oblivion was actually quite nice when they weren't relying on him to lead them or drawing the attention of more Daedra than was absolutely necessary. Granted, there was still the matter of Farwil to deal with, but as long as he stayed put there was a good chance of him making it out of the Oblivion gate alive.

"It's not my fault I'm a better assassin than you are," Lucien replied, "Though you do seem to be quite talented at upsetting young nobles. What did you say to the boy?"

"I may have gotten a bit angry when he treated the deaths of so many of his friends so lightly and acted like getting this gate shut was some sort of game," the Dunmer said, fidgeting uncomfortably as he continued, "And I told him that if he didn't stay put and think about what he'd done and stop acting like the overconfident fool he was I'd make sure he ended up dead, too. I probably could have handled that better, but I couldn't think of any other way to keep him from getting himself killed."

"It seems to have worked fairly well, at least."

"I know. I just wish I hadn't been so harsh about it, is all. He's not completely to blame; if his father had bothered to have him trained properly and not let him get away with being so full of himself, things might not have ended so badly." Remy replied, leading the way through the door to the tower containing the sigil stone.

Once inside, the two of them were able to pass by most of the Daedra it contained without being detected and dispose of the few that they were forced to confront with relatively little difficulty. They soon reached the chamber that housed the gate's sigil stone, and Remy lost no time in removing it from its place and closing the Oblivion gate.

"And that's the end of gate number four," the Dunmer said after Tamriel's safer, familiar landscape appeared around them once more. "Time to collect Farwil and claim the reward for rescuing him."

"You'll have to handle that on your own, I'm afraid," Lucien replied, "I prefer not to draw unnecessary attention to myself; my work is easier when clients don't recognize my face."

"Fair enough. Do you at least plan to stay here long enough for me to bring you your share of the reward?"

"Tempting as that is, I really must be going I'm running behind schedule as it is."

"If you're sure..."

"Besides," the Imperial purred, drawing Remy close to him and planting a firm, lingering kiss on the Dunmer's lips, "I'm sure you can think of some way to repay me when next we meet."

Remy just nodded, watching as Lucien faded from sight. Farwil wasn't anywhere nearby, but a conversation with the guards posted outside Cheydinhal's gate confirmed that he had made it safely into the city, and that news of his return had been sent to his father.

The Count was more than pleased with Remy's work, and seemed to share the Dunmer's sentiments in regard to his son's behavior. He sent two soldiers to aid in the defense of Bruma, and Remy received a nice longsword in return for his services. The Dunmer doubted he'd have much luck attempting to wield something so heavy, and wasn't at all comfortable with carrying something so ornate around with him, but he just wouldn't have felt right about selling it and decided to display it somewhere in his house whenever he was able to return to it. And invest in a better lock for his door to ensure it wouldn't be robbed during one of his more extended absences. But that could wait until he stopped by the sanctuary to inform Ocheeva that his latest contract had been completed.


	14. Chapter 14

"The High Elf Faelian now swims in the maelstrom of darkness at the feet of our Dread Father, Sithis. And, there were no witnesses to your handiwork. Because of the discretion you exercised, Captain Phillida will not suspect the Dark Brotherhood was involved, and will not meddle in our affairs. Well done!" Ocheeva said as Remy entered her chamber. The Dunmer gladly accepted the gold and enchanted bow she offered him as a reward for his most recent contract, wondering how she managed to sound so warm and motherly while talking about how he'd murdered an unfortunate Skooma addict. "I have another contract, when you're ready," she continued, "One that will rely on your ability to remain fully undetected."

"Just let me know where I'm going and who needs to be dead before I leave there, and I'll get to it as soon as possible," Remy replied. While he knew that he really did need to start focusing more on helping Martin find a way to get the Amulet back than the far less urgent assassinations he'd been carrying out lately, he was still terrified of most undead creatures, and Miscarcand was likely to be overflowing with them. Besides, he had been closing Oblivion gates and getting more soldiers sent to Bruma as a result of his most recent contracts, so it wasn't as though he was shirking his duties entirely. And for all he knew, his upcoming contract could be near Miscarcand or a city he had yet to visit in his quest to pester all Cyrodiil's leaders into giving up a few of their guards to defend their future emperor, and there was no sense in having to make unnecessary extra trips to the same city.

"Excellent. Now listen closely. Nestled in the mountains to the west lies Fort Sutch. It is the home of the warlord Roderick and his mercenaries. Roderick has recently taken ill. He now lies in eternal slumber, kept alive only by the daily administration of a powerful medicine. You must infiltrate Fort Sutch, find Roderick's medicine, and replace it with a poisoned bottle I will provide. But you must remain undetected! Whomever arranged this contract wants it to look like Roderick died from his illness, so discretion is essential. Attack no one! Be seen by no one! If you are detected, the poisoning will fail, and Roderick must be killed in some other manner. That will, of course, forfeit your bonus."

"I think I can handle that," Remy said, marking the fort's location on his map. He was happy to discover that Fort Sutch wasn't far from Miscarcand at all, and that if he had the time and energy he'd be able to request aid from at least once city while he was in the area. Then again, city guards were hardly the only possible source of additional defenders of Bruma, and he doubted that anyone would look too closely into the background of anyone who decided to lend a hand if and when another attack occurred. And it really was in everyone's best interests to make sure Mehrunes Dagon didn't succeed in conquering Tamriel; people would have more important things to worry about then having their enemies assassinated if that happened, after all…

"Before I go, do you think you could help me with something?" The Dunmer asked before Ocheeva had a chance to become engrossed in her work again.

"Of course, my brother. What do you ask of me?"

"I know that we don't exactly specialize in protecting people, but do you think it'd be possible to make an exception if it meant stopping Bruma from turning into a second Kvatch? I'm not suggesting we try to pass any of our guildmates off as guards or anything… I just think it might be a good idea to have a few of us in the area, to keep an eye on things. And step in to help if an Oblivion gate opens and things get out of hand."

"Most of our brothers and sisters aren't particularly heroically inclined, but I'll see what I can do. We are well aware of what happened to Kvatch, and I doubt that the residents of our Bruma sanctuary are eager to lose their home. At the very least, they'll have to get involved if any Daedra make it into the city itself. I will discuss the matter with our Speaker as well, though you really should have done that yourself the last time you saw him. Unless you were too focused on other activities to think clearly, of course," Ocheeva replied, smirking at the Dunmer's startled reaction and slight blush. "There's nothing to be ashamed of; there isn't a rule against becoming involved with another dark brother or sister, so long as it doesn't distract you from your duties."

"How'd you know about that?"

"You can't know Lucien for as long as I have without knowing when he takes an interest in one of the members of our sanctuary," the Argonian said, "He only monitors a recruit's progress as closely as he's been monitoring yours if he values them for more than just the coin they bring in. And both of you had a hint of the other's smell on you after the Motierre contract."

"Anyway," Remy said, hoping that the Argonian had no desire to discuss the subject any farther, "If you could pass my request along to him next time he stops by the sanctuary, that'd be great. I have no idea when the next time I see him will be; he's too unpredictable."

"Of course, brother. May Sithis go with you."insert teasing about never being home long enough to figure out LuLa's visit schedule

"And with you," Remy replied, making his way back into the sanctuary's main chamber. The contract seemed simple and straightforward enough, though if anything that made him feel less comfortable with the idea of it. Compared to the last two contracts he'd carried out, it almost seemed tooeasy. Unless his talent for stepping on breakable objects or knocking things over at inopportune moments decided to kick in. Alright, maybe the contract wasn't so simple. Asking for advice was probably a good idea.

The only useful lead he managed to gather was that the fort had a secret entrance in the form of a destroyed tower and series of flooded tunnels. How Teinaava seemed to know so much about the layout of random locations was beyond the Dunmer's comprehension, but he wasn't about to complain. Granted, whether or not he'd actually be able to use said flooded tunnels was still up for debate. Unlike the Argonian, Remy possessed no water breathing capabilities that he was aware of, and drowning due to taking an ill-advised shortcut was not high on his list of things to do. He'd just have to have a look at the tunnels for himself, and decide which way to enter the fort was safest from there.

Remy stopped by Borba's Goods and Stores on his way out of the city to sell off a few things he didn't need or want to carry around with him, wondering what in Oblivion he was meant to do with all the gold he'd acquired recently. He was happy with his current home, so buying a second house didn't make sense, and he wasn't in any hurry to replace the horse he'd borrowed from Weynon Priory before he got wrapped up in the Oblivion mess. For the time being, it would just have to go under his bed and gather dust until he thought of a use for it that didn't involve excessive drinking or gambling. Or both. As much fun as it could have been, intentionally bankrupting himself in such a way didn't seem like something he should have been considering at the time. Or any time, really. But that was beside the point.

Aside from coming across yet another Oblivion gate that would need to be closed at some point, Remy's journey to Fort Sutch was uneventful, if somewhat long and boring. Finding the entrance to the flooded tunnels Teinaava had told him about was a bit of a challenge, but it was well worth the effort when he found that he wouldn't actually need to do any swimming to get through them. The splashing noises he made while finding his way into the fort were louder than he would have liked, but there was no one within earshot of him until he made it onto dry land again, and the sentry posted at the entrance to the tunnels wasn't observant enough to notice him until he was well past her.

The trail of wet footprints he was leaving behind, however, was likely to alert someone to his presence before he could complete his task, however. Unable to think of a better solution to his problem, the Dunmer removed his boots and stashed them in the remains of a smashed barrel near the entrance to the flooded tunnels, continuing his exploration of the fort barefoot. He managed to follow a pair of mercenaries to Roderick's chambers, and found a nice, dark corner to wait in until they left their leader's side.

He realized that his plan would require some adjustments, however, when what felt like hours dragged on without either of them leaving the room. At least their patrol routes had remained constant for as long as he'd been watching them, and he was fairly sure that if he timed it right, he could swap out Roderick's medicine for the bottle of poison he'd been given without being seen. How he'd make it to any sort of hiding spot without being seen was another matter, however. Still, at this point forfeiting his bonus was preferable to waiting around for Sithis knew how long waiting for a better opportunity to strike. He doubted he'd be able to move as fast as he needed to if he waited too much longer, anyway; his feet were freezing cold, and he could feel his toes starting to go numb.

Remy dashed across the room to what he hoped was the cabinet Roderick's medicine was kept in, replacing said medicine with his near-identical bottle of poison as quickly and quietly as possible. It seemed he hadn't been quick enough, however, as before he could make it to any remotely dark area he heard footsteps dangerously close behind him. Unable to do anything else, he ducked behind the large stone slab that served as the soon to be deceased warlord's bed, hoping to come across an escape route of some kind. It seemed as though the only way he could avoid being seen and having to fight his way out was rolling off the ledge a few feet in front of him and into the darkened chamber below and hoping he didn't make too much noise when he landed, however.

Deciding that trying, even unsuccessfully, to remain undetected was preferable to sitting down and waiting to get caught, the Dunmer threw himself off the ledge as quickly as possible, landing with a soft thud on the stone floor below. Fortunately, it wasn't loud enough to warrant an investigation, and Remy was able to collect his boots and exit the fort without further incident.

While he probably could have traveled to Miscarcand immediately after exiting Fort Sutch, and the sun slowly rising over the horizon indicated that he had missed his chance to get any sleep that night, Remy set up a makeshift campsite in a wooded area a safe distance away from the fort and the Oblivion gate just outside it anyway. He may not have been particularly tired, but he was somewhat stiff from having to remain motionless for so long, and he wasn't going anywhere until his feet had warmed up and his boots had dried properly. There was no sense in entering Miscarcand and facing whatever horrors it contained when he wasn't in as good a condition as possible, after all. And if napping for a few hours meant he would acquire a Great Welkynd Stone too late for it to be of any use, then the world was probably doomed, anyway.

After a few much needed hours of sleep, Remy gathered up his belongings and set off for Miscarcand, arriving at the ruin late in the afternoon. He encountered no resistance on his way inside apart from a lone skeleton, which he was able to dismantle with minimal effort. They weren't the most structurally stable of undead creatures, and while he still found them unnerving he'd pick them over the few zombies he'd seen any day. At least they smelled better and still had all their limbs attached.

Several puddles of blood and a freshly killed goblin made it clear that the Dunmer was not alone in the ruin, and while he doubted they would be friendly to him, a glance into the first large chamber he entered revealed that the creature's surviving companions were no more fond of undead creatures than he was. Grateful for the distraction, he made his way across the room on the raised walkway that had been built in its center, any noise he might have made drowned out by the battle going on below him. He soon came to gate that blocked his way to a door that presumably led deeper into the ruin, though there was no mechanism to open it anywhere near its location.

A bit of exploring and sneaking past a few skeletons and zombies yielded a stone button with a blue light in its center, and making his way back to the gate after pressing it revealed that it was, in fact the control mechanism he was looking for. Why the Ayleids had decided it was a good idea to have their gates' opening mechanisms so far from the gates themselves was quite beyond him, however, especially considering that taking such precautions would only slow down an invading force for a few minutes at the most, as the gate could only be opened from the outside.

The rest of the ruin was laid out in much the same way, with only minor changes to the locations of the stone buttons and gates. While he did have to fight a few skeletons and zombies, thoroughly covering himself in a layer of gore that he didn't want to know the exact components of, most of the ruin's undead were occupied with the group of goblins trying to conquer it, and he was able to travel into its final section and collect a good portion of the treasure it contained without sustaining any serious injuries.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the goblins hadn't made it into that portion of Miscarcand yet, and Remy was forced to fight the small army of zombies it contained on his own. At least there wasn't any sign of its former ruler haunting its halls, though, unless said king was identical the undead creatures he commanded. Or at least, there wasn't any sign of him until Remy had found the Great Welkynd Stone and stuffed it into what little space remained in his pack. Then a section of wall receded into the floor and Miscarcand's very real former king and a pair of zombies decided they wanted their stone back.

Several nasty scratches, bites, and electrical shocks later, Remy dragged himself out of the ruin and as far away from its outer walls as possible before dumping a sizeable amount of healing potions onto himself in an effort to stop the bleeding and keep any infection he may have picked up from spreading. Once he was able to stand without leaning on his horse for support, he began the long journey up to Bruma, realizing that he was more likely to learn to fly than shut any Oblivion gates in his current state.

Martin was wearing the Amor of Tiber Septim and having a heated debated with Jauffre when Remy entered Cloud Ruler Temple, though they quickly ended the discussion and turned their attention to him once they saw him. Or smelled him; either one was equally likely, really.

"Please tell me this is the last thing we need," he said, dragging the Great Welkynd Stone out of his pack and holding it aloft, "I don't think there's enough of me left to patch me up again…"

"You're back. And you've got the Great Stone..." Martin replied, looking at him in a mixture of awe and horror. "Though obviously its acquisition could have gone more smoothly."

"I said I'd get if for you, didn't I? And here it is. It was you who failed to specify how and in what condition you wanted me back in."

"At least you're still in one piece. And it's good to know I have someone I can count on, no matter how ridiculous my request is."

"I don't know about that… Keep this up and we may have one less future emperor," Remy replied, tossing the stone to Martin. "Though I suppose I'd rather be doing all this for you than some stuffy noble. At least you're nice about ordering me around."

"I never thought to see a Great Welkynd Stone! As beautiful as all the old tales tell... But of course its beauty is a mask for its deadly power, like everything crafted by the Ayleids. Now we need only one more item, and we'll be ready to open a portal to Mankar Camoran's realm..."

"There's always something else, isn't there? You really are going to have to turn me into a zombie before all this is over at this rate."

"I'm sorry, my friend, but this truly is the last item I will require for the ritual. I should have seen it sooner. It's the counterpart to the Great Welkynd Stone, just as the first two were the opposed powers of the daedra and the divines. Welkynd stones contain the concentrated power of Mundus; their counterparts are Sigil stones, which are used to hold open Oblivion Gates. A Great Sigil Stone, then, is what we require."

"How do we get one of those, then?" Remy asked, hoping that it wouldn't involve any more near-death experiences. He'd had more than enough of those in the past few months to last him a lifetime…

"You're not going to like it. Jauffre doesn't like it. The Countess of Bruma certainly isn't going to like it. Great Sigil Stones are the anchors of Great Gates. The kind of gate the Mythic Dawn opened at Kvatch. The kind of Gate the Mythic Dawn wants to open here to destroy Bruma."

"So we're going to let them do the exact thing we've been trying to stop them from doing this whole time?" the Dunmer asked, unable to believe what he was hearing, "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Have you taken any blows to the head recently? Consumed large amounts of alcohol or Skooma?"

"Yes, no, and not that I'm aware of," Martin replied, "I said you weren't going to like it. The risk is great, I know. I was at Kvatch. I saw the terrible power of the daedric siege engine. But we have no choice. The only way to recover the Amulet of Kings is to allow the Mythic Dawn to proceed with their plan to attack Bruma."

Suddenly Martin's change in apparel began to make a lot more sense. Remy hoped he had misjudged the situation, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him otherwise as he asked, "And you'll be staying safe in the Temple, right?"

"No. I'll lead the defense of Bruma myself. If I am to be Emperor, it's time I started acting like one."

"You don't have to do this, really," Remy protested, "I know I got snippy with you earlier, and I'm sorry, but I really don't mind doing all this for you. I'm expendable; you aren't. Let me lead. Sure, I don't have the first idea how to make a motivational speech and I tend to get most of the people I'm put in charge of killed, but at least I've managed to keep you alive so far, and I'm sure I could do it again!"

"Remember when we first met in Kvatch? I told you that I didn't want any part of the gods' plan. I still don't know if there is a divine plan. But I've come to realize that it doesn't matter. What matters is that we act. That we do what's right, when confronted with evil. That's what you did at Kvatch. It wasn't the gods that saved us, it was you. Were you acting for the gods? I don't know. But now it's my turn to act," Martin replied.

"I'd like to know who this person you met in Kvatch is, because he seems to have stolen my identity. And to be entirely too pleased with himself for rescuing a pile of rubble and a few refugees after most of the city and its population had been slaughtered or burned to ash. Not to mention that I doubt any of it would have been possible without more than a little bit of divine intervention," Remy said. "But I've never said no to you before, and I'm not going to start now. If you're sure it's what you want to do, you have my support. Though I would appreciate it if you'd allow me to try and gather a few more soldiers for us first. I'm not sure an army of four is going to be enough…"

"Of course; I'll be waiting here for you when you're ready," said Martin, "Good luck."

"Thank you. I'll be needing it…"


	15. Chapter 15

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of traveling from one city to another, finding out where the Oblivion gate he was supposed to close, actually closing said Oblivion gate, and then resting and healing himself to get ready for the next gate. It wasn't easy work, but it was routine enough, and Remy certainly wasn't about to complain about the significant amount of gold he'd made selling off the more valuable trinkets he picked up along the way.

Before he knew it, he'd visited and received aid form every major city except Leyawiin, which he had been riding in the general direction of for hours in a seemingly endless torrent of rain when he noticed what appeared to be a shrine of some sort in a nearby clearing. Curious, he dismounted and went to investigate, finding several people clad in only their undergarments surrounding what appeared to be a statue of Sheogorath. Or rather, himself, but that didn't make it any less strange. He'd have to see about getting his shrines changed, really. The outfit could stay the same, of course, but he was not an old man. Or bearded. Besides, he looked strange enough to be the Prince of Madness just the way he was.

He knew that he really should have just marked the shrine's location on his map and come back to it later, but he was unable to resist the urge to find out what happened if he made an offering at his own shrine, so he approached the only fully clothed worshipper, a Dunmer by the name of Ravel, if his fellow worshippers were to be believed, hoping to receive some form of direction.

"Place. Not place? Here. Not here? Welcome to the Grove of Madness, stranger. Or go away. Who knows? Time will tell," Ravel said upon noticing his presence.

"Yes… Anyway, I'd like to speak to Sheogorath," Remy replied.

"Then approach the shrine. He might appear. Because it's raining. He loves the rain. Because it's wet. Or because it's rainy. Not so sure. Of course, you'll need an offering. I think a lesser soul gem, a head of lettuce, and some yarn will do the trick. Yes. That's what Sheogorath wants."

"Thank you," said Remy, making his way around the other Dunmer to the base of the shrine. A few minutes of rummaging through his pack revealed that he did, in fact, possess all the items required to speak with himself, and as he didn't have any particular use in mind for them at the time, he placed them at his statue's feet and hoped for the best.

"Praying to yourself, my Lord? That's not a good sign. Or perhaps it is. Prince of Madness, and all that.  
While I believe that you should be attending to your duties, it is, of course, your prerogative to spend time wherever you wish. Your predecessor did have one task He wanted performed, though He never found a mortal suited for the task," Haskill said in his usual monotone.

"I'm a mortal. Or at least, I used to be. Either way, I think I've proven myself suitable for whatever else needs to get done, and you may as well make use of me while I'm here. I'm not going back to the Isles until I'm good and ready for it," Remy replied. He knew that he probably should have been taking his duties more seriously, but he just couldn't force himself to care at the moment. He'd made a commitment to save Tamriel before he'd even set foot in the Isles, after all, and he could hardly turn his back on his home world in its time of need. He liked Tamriel, and a fair number of people living in it. Maybe he'd consider leaving once he started outliving everyone he knew, but that wouldn't be for a few decades at least. Haskill would just have to run the place without him for a while.

"Yes, my lord. Your wish is my command," Haskill sighed, "There is a settlement called Border Watch that your predecessor found rather dull. This, of course, offended Him greatly. They are a rather superstitious group, living their lives based on omens and prophecy. One such prophecy, the K'sharra, was of particular interest. Your task would be to make the first two signs of the prophecy occur. Your predecessor already put plans in motion for the final step. Good luck."

As luck would have it, Border Watch was conveniently located some distance down the road leading to Leyawiin, so Remy would be able to make a stop there without going out of his way to do so. It was getting fairly late, anyway, so he doubted he would have been able to speak with Leyawiin's rulers that day even if he hadn't stopped by his shrine. Upon his arrival, he was greeted by Ri'Bassa, a Khajiit who happily shared the details of the K'sharra prophecy with him. Or at least the first two parts of it. And the fact that the innkeeper was quite fond of pungent cheese. At least he hadn't been planning on staying the night…

How he was supposed to summon a plague of rats was beyond him, though killing off the few sheep that made up the settlement's livestock population would be easy enough. Deciding that he'd be able to think more clearly if he wasn't being rained on the whole time, the Dunmer took shelter in Border Watch's small inn. The smell of cheese was overpowering despite the tightly sealed glass cases said cheeses were kept in, though the stench carried happy memories along with it. His adoptive mother had had a fondness for similar cheese, but had finally decided to stop buying it after a particularly strong batch had seemingly summoned every rat in Skyrim to their house…

Suddenly, he realized exactly how he was going to summon a plague of rats. Once the innkeeper's back was turned, he picked the lock on the display case presumably containing the strongest smelling cheese and closed the lid to its case before quietly slipping out the door. After that, all he'd needed to do was put the cheese in a large, outdoor cooking pot and wait.

The settlement was almost entirely overrun by rats before any of its residents were able to process what was happening, and "borrowing" some of the poison Ri'Bassa used to dispose of them and discreetly adding it to the sheep's feed took care of the second part of the prophecy, as well. He was then instructed by Haskill to wait in the center of the settlement for whatever Sheogorath had had in mind to fulfill the mysterious third part of the prophecy. Granted, Remy wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see whatever it was that the residents of Border Watch found too horrifying to even speak of, but he figured that there was no sense in giving up on his quest after doing all the work for it.

After several seconds of nothing happening, Remy decided to try to track down one of Border Watch's residents to see if the final part of the prophecy had done something to them, only to come mere inches away from being struck by a flaming dog that had fallen from the sky. The area around him was soon filled with the stench of flaming canines and the unpleasant cracking and squelching the unfortunate creatures made when they hit the ground. Most seemed to have died on impact, though one particularly lucky dog's fall was cushioned by a pile of hay, and it successfully extinguished itself by rolling around in the wet grass before running off into the surrounding forest to escape the horde of screaming Khajiit that had filled the streets upon realizing what had occurred.

Remy left the settlement as soon as the rain of dogs had ended, wanting to be sure that he was far away from its residents before they collected themselves and started to question why his arrival had coincided with the K'sharra prophecy being fulfilled. Haskill gave him a staff of some sort as a reward, and while he generally had no use for them he decided to at least try it out before selling it or adding it to his growing stash of items he had no use for but felt the need to keep anyway.

Leyawiin's Oblivion gate was no more difficult to close than the others he had encountered, and after disposing of Scar-Tail for Teinaava so he didn't have to make another trip to that part of the province for as long as possible, Remy began the long journey back to Bruma. In retrospect, visiting the city farthest away from it last probably wasn't the best idea. Neither was storing a fresh Argonian heart near his food, as the blood-soaked loaf of bread he'd been unable to eat had proven. Not that he was likely to need that knowledge again (or at least, he hoped not), but still.

"Alright, let's get this Great Gate of yours opened," Remy said upon entering Cloud Ruler Temple and flopping down onto the bench across from Martin's workspace.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Martin replied, "First we'll need to get the Countess to go along with our plan. I'll need you to explain t to the Countess. I'm afraid she may take more convincing than you."

"Why me? I'm just some random Dunmer. She'd be much more likely to listen if you talked to her yourself, wouldn't she?"

"No. The people of Bruma know you; they trust you. While you were out closing Oblivion gates, I was sitting here poring over old books. Like it or not, you are the one people are referring to as a hero. You are the one she is likely to listen to."

"Fine, I'll talk to her..," Remy sighed. He was really beginning to resent all this heroing business.

"Good. Have her meet me in the Chapel of Talos for a council of war. That seems a fitting place to make such desperate plans."

Needless to say, the Countess was less than pleased by Remy's proposal.

"A desperate plan indeed. This ... Prince? Emperor? Martin would risk my whole city to gain a Great Sigil Stone?" she asked.

"Believe me, if he had any better ideas we'd be using those. Unfortunately, we don't, and if we don't get that Great Sigil Stone, we won't be getting the Amulet of Kings back either, and Bruma's going to be overrun by Daedra anyway," Remy replied.

"This is the only way to stop this invasion from Oblivion? I must confess, you are the first person to speak of victory against these Daedra. This war has seemed hopeless to me, but what else was there to do but hold on and wait for a hero to arise to save us? And now it seems there is an heir to the throne after all, hidden at Cloud Ruler Temple... and perhaps a hero as well?"

"Whatever he is, Martin's waiting for you at the Chapel of Talos. You can see for yourself when we get there. If you're saying that you'll let us go ahead with our plan, that is."

"You avoid answering my question ... Very well. Don't think I doubt you. The rulers of Bruma have long had dealings with Cloud Ruler Temple. We know whom they serve. I will meet Martin at the Chapel. When all is ready, I will order my men to stop closing the Gates and prepare for battle."

Martin was waiting for them when they reached the Chapel, and after a brief conversation with the Countess, he turned his attention to Remy.

"When you're ready for battle, the Countess will order her men to stop closing the Gates outside the city," he said.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Remy replied. "So what exactly is our plan?"

"We must allow the Mythic Dawn to proceed with their plan to open three lesser Gates outside Bruma. According to the plans you captured from those spies, they need three lesser Gates open before they can open a Great Gate. The Great Gate will allow them to bring out the siege machine to blast the walls of Bruma, just like at Kvatch. But it's our only hope to get the Great Sigil Stone we need to complete the ritual. You'll have to act swiftly when the Great Gate opens."

"So, just do what I've been doing, only faster?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"Let's get this over with, then."

\- Meanwhile… -

"So you've finally resorted to whores, have you? Don't tell me you've lost your touch," Mathieu said, seating himself on Lucien's desk.

"If you're referring to the newest member of our family, then yes. I see news of his previous occupation and our involvement has reached the Black Hand," Lucien replied, "Though I would hardly consider bedding such a promising recruit who has also gained the trust and love of much of Cyrodiil and its future emperor as 'losing my touch'."

"Not the Black Hand, just me. I had a chat with Ocheeva before coming here. Unfortunately, it seems I just missed your latest conquest. I hear he's every bit as ambitious as I was when I first joined; I would have liked to meet him."

"If he continues at this rate, your wish may be granted soon enough. It's time I chose a Silencer, and he's as good a candidate as anyone else in the sanctuary," Lucien said, pausing for a moment when Mathieu's posture seemed to become slightly more rigid, but dismissing the thought when he showed no further signs of agitation. The boy had always been quite vocal about his opinions, and he had no reason to stop now. If he felt it was important, he would say it on his own soon enough.

After a long silence Mathieu remarked, "That's a lot of trust to put into someone who joined our family so recently."

"I seem to recall receiving similar comments when I recommended that you be promoted to Silencer not so long ago," Lucien replied, "Or are you questioning my judgment on that decision, as well?"

"Of course not. I was merely concerned that you may not have been thinking with your mind alone on this matter."

"And when have I ever been swayed into making a poor decision based on mere lust?"

"If that truly is all you feel for him, then there is nothing to be concerned about."

"What are you implying, Mathieu?"

"Only that when you feel lust alone for someone, you tend to lose interest in them once you have finally convinced them to come to bed with you. And yet, you have already accomplished this with this recruit of yours, but you continue to take an interest in him…"

"That's quite enough, Mathieu," Lucien said, the dark edge to his tone immediately putting an end to the Silencer's remarks. Reluctant as he was to admit it, the boy had a point. Whatever he felt for the Dunmer, it went farther than simple attraction. He frowned, attempting to force the thought out of his mind by focusing intently on the poison he'd been brewing before Mathieu had interrupted him. It wasn't as effective as he would have liked, however, and he resigned himself to the knowledge that he would have to come to terms with whatever he felt for Remy soon enough.

"I suppose I'll be going, then," said Mathieu, and with that he exited the abandoned fort Lucien called home, the satisfied smirk on his face making it clear that he knew the effect his words had had on the Speaker.


	16. Chapter 16

Remy wished he shared Martin's confidence and enthusiasm as he watched the man give a motivational speech to the group of soldiers amassed outside Bruma's walls. Just one Oblivion gate could produce more than enough Daedra for them to handle, and with the three that they were going to need open to have a chance at getting a Great Sigil Stone they'd be lucky if they weren't overrun within minutes. How he was going to manage to make it all the way through the Great Gate fast enough to avoid that was beyond him, and the unpredictable layout of the plane of Oblivion it would open into made planning all but impossible. He'd just have to rush in and hope for the best.

He anxiously scanned the faces of the soldiers around him, hoping to catch any sort of indication that at least one or two of them were Dark Brotherhood members, but he had no such luck. It wasn't all that surprising, really, though that didn't make it any less disappointing. Heroic battles were hardly the Dark Brotherhood's area of expertise, after all, even when their outcome would have just as much impact on the guild as anyone else.

A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to see Gogron gro-Bolmog and what appeared to be Telaendril standing behind him.

"By the Nine, am I glad to see you," Remy said, "I thought no one was coming."

"Did you really think we would abandon you in your time of need, brother? You're part of our family. We couldn't exactly bring the entire sanctuary with us without arousing suspicion though, now could we?" Telaendril asked, "I spend the most time out of the sanctuary to begin with, and it makes sense for a wanderer such as myself to hire a bodyguard in such dangerous times. Doesn't it, Gogron?"

"Of course," the Orc replied, "And I can be as loud and obnoxious while killing things as I want this way. Right?"

"Absolutely. I hope you brought an extra axe with you, though. You may be needing it," said the Dunmer.

Before anything more could be said, a group of Daedra poured out of the first gate to open, putting an end to their conversation as they ran off in different directions to enter the battle.

The first wave of Daedra was easy enough to fend off, but they were soon followed by another, and a second gate opened soon after that. Bruma's defenders were tiring by the time the third gate opened, and their numbers had thinned considerably when the Great Gate finally made its appearance. Not wanting to waste any time, Remy dashed across the blood-soaked ground, weaving around the remaining soldiers and the Daedra they were engaged in battle with, and threw himself through the gate without a second thought.

The first thing the Dunmer saw once he was inside was a large black gate. It rapidly swung open, revealing an impossibly large battering ram slowly crawling forward on several sets of legs that gave it the appearance of a fiery stone insect. Not wanting to know what would happen if it managed to crawl its way into Tamriel and reach the gates of Bruma, Remy ran through the gate, ignoring the Daedra it contained as he entered the first tower he could find.

From that point on, his task consisted of running up and down steep ramp and across the narrow walkways that connected the plane of Oblivion's smaller towers, gradually making his way closer and closer to the large central one that he hoped contained the Great Sigil Stone he was after. He avoided fighting as much as possible, electing to simply dash past any Daedra he came into contact with before they could realize what was going on and hope they lost interest in pursuing him soon after. The few he was forced to confront were left lying injured on the floor after a stab or two of his dagger, their shrieks of pain echoing off the tower walls.

He eventually managed to open a second, smaller gate that led to a bridge that took him to the central tower's base, rushing inside and blocking its doors with a stolen Dremora longsword to shut out the small army of Daedra that were following him. Fortunately, the tower was only lightly guarded, and he was able to make it to its top with relative ease compared to the rest of his journey. Or at least, until he entered the room containing the sigil stone and came face to face with a Frost Atronach.

His attacks seemed to have no effect on the creature, the only sign that it could be damaged at all being the small chips of ice that flaked off of it when the Dunmer landed a blow on it. Its attacks were more than effective on Remy, however, and he soon realized that even if he did have the time to slowly chip away at the creature until it was no longer a threat, there was no way his body would be able to withstand its repeated attempts to turn him into an ice statue.

Taking advantage of the fact that the Atronach moved much slower than he did, even with half-frozen legs, the Dunmer ran up the last set of ramps standing between him and the Great Sigil Stone and removed it from the beam of light suspending it in the air, shoving it into his pack as the ground beneath his feet began to crumble.

Remy's relief upon being back in Tamriel was cut short, however, when he realized that he was standing under the somewhat unstable remains of the Siege Crawler that had made part of its way through the Oblivion gate before being sliced neatly in half when it was shut. He just barely managed to roll out from under it before its legs buckled, sending its heavy stone body crashing to the ground he had stood upon mere moments before.

It seemed that Bruma's defenders had managed to overcome their Daedric assailants while he was in Oblivion, though it was obvious that both sides had taken heavy losses before the end. Martin was standing with a few of the surviving soldiers across the field, and Telaendril and Gogron were walking away from the area in the general direction of Cheydinhal. Grateful that no one of importance to him or the rest of Tamriel had fallen or taken serious injury in the battle, Remy made his way over to Martin and presented the Great Sigil Stone to him.

"That was far too close for comfort… For a moment there, I was afraid you weren't going to make it in time," Martin said, taking the Great Sigil Stone.

"What kind of story would it have made if I hadn't taken the stone at the last possible moment? No one wants to hear about how their hero walked into an Oblivion gate, grabbed a shiny orb, and walked out again before any of the horrors inside could set foot in Tamriel, now do they? Just think of how empty the bards' songs would be if they didn't have a gigantic engine of death slowly crawling its way into Tamriel to squish the last remaining Septim and his brave army to include in them. I'd say I've done the world a great service by taking so long, really," Remy replied. "That, and I had some difficulty with an oversized, bloodthirsty block of ice that was guarding the Stone. Apparently Dagon finally realized that I'm not the most flammable of creatures and decided to change tactics on me."

"What kind of champion goes to such lengths to steal the glory away from his Emperor?" Martin asked, his infectious grin ruining his attempt at appearing offended, "It's good to have you back in one piece, though. I don't care how good the tales and songs would be; I'd never forgive myself if they were about how you died saving Bruma from destruction."

"I wouldn't relax just yet if I were you. I'm sure there'll be plenty of chances for me to be remembered as a tragic hero when I'm in Camoran's Paradise. Or a particularly persistent and irritating obstacle in Dagon's quest to conquer Tamriel, depending on who ends up telling the story."

"You are right. We have won a great victory here today, but we must act quickly if we are to recover the Amulet of Kings from Mankar Camoran. He will not take long to recognize this danger. Remember, the portal closes behind you. Anything you need, carry it with you. I'll have the ritual ready in the Great Hall when you arrive."

"Actually, if you've got somewhere I can sharpen my dagger and patch up my armor, I'm ready to get the Amulet back right now," Remy said. The only real injuries he had suffered were a few scrapes, bruises, and rapidly-thawing cold spots, and he was already carrying everything he'd want to take into Camoran's Paradise with him. All he would have accomplished by waiting was wasting time, and that seemed like a bad idea given the circumstances.

"In that case, you can get that done while I prepare the ritual," Martin replied, "Just think, in a few short hours we'll have the means to permanently close those damned Oblivion gates. It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"You can say that again… I never thought I'd even manage to get that first one closed, but here we are. I guess we're lucky I seem to have a natural talent for not dying."

"The Nine chose their champion well, it seems. Let's not forget your impressive skill at not throttling priests who send you on suicide missions all over Cyrodiil."

"And believing everything that strange old men in prison cells tell me. That's important, too."

"And staying in remarkably good spirits for an unpaid all purpose errand boy, to boot."

"Anything for my favorite Emperor."

"Really? I'd have thought you'd be more fond of my father; he's the one who let you out of that prison cell, after all. All I've done is try to get you killed for the past few months."

"Yes, but he's the one who gave me the damned Amulet in the first place. If it wasn't for him, I could be all nice and cozy on my pile of straw right now," Remy replied, "All you did was try to make the best of a bad situation. You will be forever remembered for your creative use of prostitutes, my friend."

"Won't that be an interesting chapter in the history books," Martin said, smiling at the thought. "I'll be sure to remind the historians to write things down exactly as they happened instead of switching things around to make them sound more heroic."

"Good plan. I'll stand behind them and start poking at them if they get things wrong, just in case."

Their conversation continued until they reached Cloud Ruler Temple, at which point they went their separate ways to accomplish their respective tasks. After getting his weapons and armor repaired as well as he could, Remy begged a few extra healing potions off couple of Blades he found before heading back to the main hall to see how Martin was faring at getting the ritual together. Judging by the collection of items he had collected placed around a series of elaborate symbols drawn on the floor, it seemed that he had been quite successful.

"I have everything in place for the ritual. I'll open the portal whenever you're ready," Martin said, "I don't know what you'll find in Camoran's Paradise. I do know the portal I create through the Mysterium Xarxes ritual will close behind you. You'll have to find another way back. I believe that Mankar Camoran acts as the "anchor" for Paradise, just as a sigil stone anchors an Oblivion Gate in place. Kill Mankar Camoran, and you will unmake his Paradise. Shall I open the portal to Paradise? Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Remy replied.

"Farewell, my friend. Our fate is in your hands. Bring back the Amulet of Kings. Brace yourself."

With that, Martin stood across the circle of objects from the Dunmer, and after performing some sort of spell a large, fiery portal appeared between them. Before he had time to think about exactly what he was about to do, and the effect his success or failure would have on the future of Tamriel, Remy stepped through the wall of flame, ready to face whatever he found on the other side. Which, seemingly in a rare stroke of luck, was a large garden.

Remy simply stood in the stone path he found himself on at first, wondering if he had somehow ended up in the wrong plane of Oblivion. His concern was short-lived, however, as before long Mankar Camoran's voice rang out in his mind, delivering some sort of dull monologue. Trying his best to ignore his enemy's one-sided conversation with him, he began walking along the path, hoping it would take him where he needed to go.

At first, his journey was much the same as his time spent in the Oblivion gates he had shut, with the exception that he was using the plentiful flowerbeds and trees as cover instead of rocks. It was populated by a combination of Daedra and Camoran's deceased followers, who had been rewarded for their service and loyalty with a pain-filled afterlife of being mauled by said Daedra.

After a good deal of walking and several of Camoran's telepathic messages, he was confronted by a surprisingly friendly Dremora. After a brief conversation, he was given a choice between performing some sort of task for it or fighting it in exchange for a set of armbands he would need if he wanted to continue his quest. He elected to simply fight and kill the creature and continued on his way, passing through a series of caves before reaching the set of doors that he would require the Bands of the Chosen to pass.

When he put the bands on, however, they came with the nasty side effect of removing all the rest of his armor, as well. Left standing there in naught but his smallclothes and a set of armbands that he was unable to remove through any means he possessed, he realized that making it out of the Forbidden Grotto and reaching Camoran was going to take some creativity. Fortunately, finding creative solutions to problems was one of his skills.

After sneaking his way past several Daedra and Mythic Dawn agents, he met an Altmer named Eldamil, who seemed to regret the part he had played in the sacking of Kvatch and offered to aid him in his quest. As he had no other means to remove the Bands of the Chosen, Remy agreed to go along with the Altmer's plan, and after a brief moment of doubt when he was very nearly burned to a crisp, his trust was repaid with the removal of the bands and having an ally in his quest to defeat Mankar Camoran.

Once they exited the Forbidden Grotto, all that stood between them and their target was a short walk through a peaceful section of the garden to his palace. The presence of Camoran's children in the courtyard confirmed that it was, in fact, his home, and after an almost pleasant greeting the two of them were led inside.

Camoran seemed quite pleased by Remy's presence, and decided that he needed to give yet another monologue before finally settling things. Unfortunately for him, the Dunmer had grown quite tired of listening to him talk, and cut him off mid-sentence by running to his throne and very nearly driving a dagger into his heart. He managed to dive off of his throne just in time to avoid Remy's attack, however, and took off running up a nearby flight of stairs.

Remy followed him as soon as he retrieved his dagger from the back of his throne, ignoring the shouts and attacks of Camoran's children as he pursued the Altmer into a corner. After receiving several nasty shocks, burns, and gods knew what else, Remy managed to get around Camoran's skillful blocks with his staff and put an end to him at last. He recovered the Amulet of Kings and grabbed Camoran's staff before taking shelter in a corner as the palace crumbled around him, eventually finding himself sitting on the floor of Cloud Ruler Temple once more.

"You found a way back! Does this mean…?" Martin asked, not daring to speak the rest of the question aloud.

"Of course it does," Remy replied. "Camoran's dead."

"You did it. You defeated him. Then you have it… you have the Amulet of Kings?"

"Yep," said Remy, offering the Amulet to him, "It's yours. Should've been yours a long time ago, really."

"Belongs to me? The Amulet of Kings? So you and Jauffre have said. If it is true, if the Emperor really was my father, then I should be able to wear it. Only those of the Septim blood can wear the Amulet of Kings."

"Try it on, then. Don't keep us all waiting."

"Yes, of course. What am I waiting for? After all, this is my destiny. No man can deny his destiny," Martin said, hesitantly taking the Amulet and putting it around his neck, where it remained securely fastened, proving that he truly was Cyrodiil's rightful Emperor. "I didn't really need the Amulet to tell me that. I've known it was true since you first told me back in Kvatch. But it is one thing to talk of becoming Emperor, and quite another to actually be the Emperor."

"You look like an Emperor to me," Remy replied, gesturing at the elaborate robes his friend had put on during his absence, "Though you are a bit cleaner than your father was when I met him. Fleeing from assassins will do that to you, I guess."

"Not yet. Until we light the Dragonfires, the Gates are open, and Mehrunes Dagon's invasion continues. While you were gone, I sent a messenger to High Chancellor Ocato. He waits for us in the Imperial City."

"Why do we have to talk to that stuffy old seatwarmer?" Remy asked, frowning at the memory of their last encounter.

"Because Chancellor Ocato is the head of the Elder Council," Marin replied, "The Council rules in the Emperor's absence. I don't expect any objections from the Elder Council, but we should defer to their authority. Let's go to the Imperial City at once, before the enemy can recover from Mankar Camoran's death."

"Fine. Though it may be best if I get cleaned up first. Wouldn't want him fainting from my heroic stench, after all."

"Of course. We'll leave as soon as you've made yourself presentable."

"That doesn't mean I have to wear a dress too, does it?"

"Only if you want to," Martin replied, "You'd probably get labeled as a woman by accident, though. Then we'd have to deal with half the empire demanding the Hero of Kvatch as their new Empress."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"You mean aside from the fact that they'd start to wonder about our lack of children and my "wife's" suspiciously deep voice?"

"Good point. I'll just go as my usual messy, armored self."

"That's fine by me. We'll be waiting for you outside."


	17. Chapter 17

The ride to the Imperial City passed almost silently, with only the occasional call for a brief stop exchanged between the three travelers. Each was entirely consumed by his own thoughts, though their reasons for such intense self reflection were entirely different.

Jauffre was painfully aware that their destination was the very place that their quest had started, and the Blades had failed to protect the Emperor in his own stronghold. Martin was trying to come to terms with his true heritage, and the fact that in a few short hours, barring catastrophe, he would be entrusted with the care of an entire Empire, and the lives of the countless people living within its borders. He felt a greater sense of affection toward Remy and a deeper appreciation for his friend's actions now that he was truly able to empathize with how he must have felt after being forced into a role he'd never wanted or been the least bit prepared for, and would have said as much had he not known that the Dunmer would simply brush it off and drag him along on one of the bizarre tangents their conversations inevitably ended up on.

Remy was just trying to figure out what he was going to do with himself once the Oblivion Crisis was finally over. Yes, he would still have the Dark Brotherhood, but he doubted there would be enough contracts available to fill all his time, and he knew that he wouldn't be content with spending every waking moment on them, anyway. He could always do some actual work for the Thieves Guild or stop by the Arena again, but neither of those would be particularly satisfying, either. Life was going to get a lot more boring once Martin was made Emperor.

After several hours of riding, the Imperial City's high walls and the White-Gold Tower standing at its center came into view, as did the bridge leading to its main gate. From there, all that was left was a short walk to the palace, where Chancellor Ocato would accept Martin as Tamriel's rightful Emperor so that he could relight the Dragonfires and they could all live happily ever after. And if Ocato decided not to accept Martin as Tamriel's rightful Emperor, then Remy would get a chance to find out what exactly the Wabbajack was supposed to do. Either possibility was fine by him, really.

The Palace guards scowled at the Dunmer as he passed, no doubt recalling his outburst the last time he visited. They raised no objection to him accompanying Martin inside, however, and from there it was only a short walk to the council chamber where Ocato was waiting for them.

Martin paused just outside the door. "By ancient tradition, I may not present myself as a candidate for the throne. I need you to formally present my claim to Chancellor Ocato."

"Are you sure I'm the best person to do this? My last meeting with him didn't exactly end well..."

"What happened?"

"He couldn't send any aid to Bruma, and I may have shouted at him and called him a milk drinker. He threw me out."

"That would explain the looks the guards were giving you earlier." Martin smiled, clearly amused. "I'm sure everything will go well. He's deciding whether to make me Emperor, not you."

"If you're sure..." Remy entered the council chamber and approached Chancellor Ocato.

"I have been expecting you." Ocato said when he noticed the Dunmer. "The full Council has considered Martin's claim to the Imperial Throne in detail." With that, he brushed past Remy and turned his attention to Martin. "Martin Septim, on behalf of the Elder Council, I accept your claim to the Imperial Throne. We should arrange the coronation ceremony as soon as ..."

"Chancellor Ocato! The city is under attack! Oblivion Gates have opened, and daedra are inside the walls! The guard is overwhelmed!" a soldier shouted, bursting into the room.

"Courage soldier, we have an Emperor again," Ocato said. "Your Highness, what are your orders? Shall the Guard fall back to the Palace?"

"No. If we let ourselves get besieged in the Palace we're doomed. We must get to the Temple of the One immediately," Martin replied.

"As you command, sire. Guards! Form up and protect the Emperor! To the Temple of the One!"

"Mehrunes Dagon knows that if I can reach the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires, he has lost. Come on!" Martin said, half-dragging Remy out of the Palace behind him.

The courtyard was swarming with daedra, though with the help of several guards they were able to dispose of them. To Remy's surprise, Ocato was just as useful, if not more, than the guards, burning or electrocuting several daedra and healing anyone who was badly injured. Unfortunately, it seemed that all their efforts had been for nothing when they reached the Temple District. Mehrunes Dagon himself had entered Tamriel, and was standing between them and the Temple of the One.

"We're too late... Mehrunes Dagon is here! Lighting the Dragonfires will no longer save us... the barriers that protected us from Oblivion are gone..." Martin said, looking as though he had lost all hope.

"There must be some way we can force him back into Oblivion," Remy replied, "We didn't come all this way to give up now, did we? I know I'm not about to just lay down and die after all the hell you put me through."

"I don't see how... mortal weapons may hurt him, but now that he is physically here in Tamriel, they have no power to actually destroy him."

"What about the Amulet of Kings? It's got to be able to do something, right?"

"Wait. Yes. The Amulet was given to mortals by Akatosh... it contains His divine power... But how to use this power against Dagon? The Amulet was not intended as a weapon... ... I have an idea. One last hope. I must reach the Dragonfires in the Temple of the One."

"What's the plan once we get there?"

"You'll just have to trust me. I now know what I was born to do. But I'll need your help. I have to get past Mehrunes Dagon, somehow."

"Alright. I'll get you into that temple one way or another."

"Then I'll do the rest. With my own Daedric Prince at my side, how difficult can it be?"

"We're hardly the same thing, you know," Remy said. "I don't have a fancy giant form to stomp around in, for one thing." The comparison did give him an idea, though. Not that it was a particularly good one, or particularly likely to work, but it was better than running at Dagon and stabbing at his ankles with a dagger.

He removed the Wabbajack from its usual place strapped behind his back, pointed what he hoped was the right end in Dagon's general direction, and hoped for the best. After a few seconds of awkwardly waving it about, a small burst of red light was released from it, which hit Dagon squarely in his incredibly large chest. At least Remy hadn't needed to worry about missing his target, even if he had no idea what his attack was going to do.

Remy was almost as surprised as Dagon was when the Daedric Prince's imposing form was suddenly replaced by that of a sheep. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, the Dunmer lost no time in running into the Temple of the One, closely followed by Martin.

"That's a useful trick," Martin said, closing the door firmly behind them.

"I just wish I'd figured it out earlier. I doubt it's permanent, though. Let's get this plan of yours into action before Dagon unsheeps himself."

Martin smiled sadly at him, pulling him into a brief embrace. "I do what I must do. I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task falls to others. Farewell. You've been a good friend, in the short time that I've known you. But now I must go. The Dragon waits." And with that, he ran to the center of the Temple and threw the Amulet of Kings to the ground, shattering it.

There was a blinding flash of light as Martin became a massive, fiery dragon just as Dagon smashed the Temple's roof in. Remy watched in awe as the two leviathans slashed and tore at each other, each fighting for the future of Tamriel he wanted. Dagon put up a good fight, but in the end even he was no match for the power of a god. He was destroyed and, presumably, forced back into his plane of Oblivion, along with any daedra that had accompanied him into Tamriel. Having accomplished its task, the dragon landed in the same spot Martin had last stood, throwing its head back in a roar as it turned to stone.

Still trying to process all that had just happened, the Dunmer stood there, mouth agape until a tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"What happened? Where's Martin?" Ocato asked, "I must congratulate him! Mehrunes Dagon is defeated! Cast back into Oblivion! We've won!"

"Martin's gone," Remy replied. The words sounded so strange, so wrong, but they were the truth, painful as it was. He should have done something, anything, to stop Martin. There must have been some other way…

"What do you mean, gone? We saw the Temple dome explode, the avatar of Akatosh appear... that was Martin?"

"It was. He shattered the Amulet, and then… You saw the rest." If he'd gotten the artifacts together just a bit faster, or if they'd gone straight to the Temple instead of visiting Ocato first, maybe they would have made it in time… Or if he hadn't let Camoran escape with the Amulet in the first place, for that matter.

"The joined blood of kings and gods. The Amulet of Kings. The divine power of Akatosh. Then Martin really is gone…"

"He is. But he died saving Tamriel; the Oblivion gates are sealed for good now."

"Yes. Sealed forever. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again. Martin is dead. But he died an emperor, and a hero to rival Tiber Septim." Ocato must have realized what Remy was feeling, as he added, "Whatever may have happened before now, none of this was your fault. For whatever reason, it is likely that the Divines intended for it to end this way. Even the most heroic of mortals cannot change their destiny, or that of others. It's best not to dwell on such things."

"Thanks," the Dunmer replied, feeling a bit better. He knew that Martin would probably have told him the same thing, if he were still alive, and he doubted that the man would want him to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty about things he couldn't change. He looked away from the Altmer before mumbling, "Sorry I called you a milk drinker…"

Ocato looked somewhat amused as he replied, "And I'm sorry I had you thrown out of the Palace."

"So, what happens now?"

"This victory is not without cost. We've lost Martin Septim. What an emperor he might have made. His sacrifice was necessary, but it leaves the Empire without an emperor. I don't know what happens now. There are troubled times ahead for the Empire. But now is not the time to worry about the future. Let's just give thanks that we're alive," Ocato said, "In the meantime, In my capacity as Lord High Chancellor of the Elder Council, I hereby proclaim you Champion of Cyrodiil!"

"As nice as the titles are, I don't suppose I'm ever getting paid for all this, am I?"

"In septims, probably not. However, as a small token of gratitude for your service to the Empire, I shall have ordered a suit of Imperial Dragon armor made for you. It should be ready in the next two weeks or so."

"It's better than nothing," Remy replied, "Whatever it is."

"Imperial Dragon armor is normally worn only by the Emperor himself. But you deserve no less, Champion. You have earned the highest rank possible in the Order of the Dragon, the illustrious order of Imperial knights founded by Tiber Septim himself. It is a high honor. Only six other Champions have been awarded in the history of the Empire."

"In that case, I hope it comes in a light version or I'm afraid you'll end up with a somewhat immobile Champion," said Remy.

"I'll keep that in mind. I need to be going, now," Ocato replied, making his way towards what was left of the Temple's door.

Remy spent the next several days in the Imperial City, telling the story of all that he and Martin had done to countless people and finally getting enough sleep and food. Whenever he had a moment to himself, he entered a match in the Arena or helped clean up the mess Dagon left, keeping himself too active to think about what else he was supposed to do with himself. Before long he'd gotten himself to Champion rank, though, and couldn't enter any more matches unless he felt like fighting the Grey Prince himself. Which he really didn't feel like doing at the time, as it would involve watching another person he knew die. Or dying himself, which wasn't much more appealing. He was sitting next to the dragon statue one night, trying to figure out what to do next when someone sat down beside him.

"Hello, Remy. It's been far too long since any of us have seen you, you know that?" Antoinetta Marie scolded, affectionately tugging at his ponytail.

"It's good to see you, too," the Dunmer replied, "What brings you here?"

"I had a contract nearby and thought I'd stop by to see what happened to the Temple of the One for myself."

"Well, here it is."

"I was hoping I'd find you, too. I know how difficult it is to lose a friend, and I wanted to make sure you're alright…"

"I'm fine, Antoinetta, though I appreciate the concern," Remy replied, putting an arm around her shoulder. It was good to see a familiar face again, and that he wasn't entirely out of friends after all. "If you've got the time, why don't we go out and have a drink or five?"

"That sounds lovely."

A couple of hours and several drinks later, Remy found himself escorting a somewhat inebriated Antoinetta out of the Bloated Float in an effort to stop her from knocking herself out. Had he known she had such a low tolerance for alcohol, he would have suggested a nice game of cards, instead…

"Let's get you back to the sanctuary now, shall we?" he asked, half-dragging her down the street.

"No, I dun wanna go back yet," Antoinetta replied, leaning on him more than was necessary, "Le'sh go 'ave some more fun."

"I think you've had more than enough fun for now…" Remy replied, hoping the conversation wasn't going where he thought it was going.

"Dun be like that…" Antoinetta pouted, trying to kiss his lips but ending up just to the right of his nose instead. "We can have lotsh more fun together…"

"No. We are taking you back to the sanctuary, and you are taking a nice nap."

"You're jus' sayin' that 'cause of Lucien, aren't you? It'sh no fair; he always gets the pretty ones…"

"No, I'm saying it because you're a good friend and you're too drunk to know what you want right now. Try again when you're sober, and maybe I'll reconsider," Remy said. Much as he hated to admit it, his refusal was partly because of whatever it was he had going with Lucien. He knew it was ridiculous, and that the Imperial probably didn't share his sentiments, but that didn't change his own thoughts. It was nice to be involved with someone for more than one night, regardless of how casual the relationship was, and sleeping with someone else just wouldn't have felt right. Not that that would stop him if he really wanted to and his prospective partner was capable of thinking properly. Not in the slightest.

"Meanie."

Remy sighed in a combination of frustration and relief when they finally reached the stables. "Did you bring a horse with you?"

"Nope."

"Looks like we'll be sharing mine, then," he said, hoisting Antoinetta onto the saddle and climbing on behind her. He somehow managed to keep her from falling off until they reached Cheydinhal, and sneak her into the sanctuary without the guards taking too much notice of them. After that, he gave her a nudge in the direction of the sanctuary living quarters and went to turn in his latest contract and see if Ocheeva had any work for him.


	18. Chapter 18

"Ah, so you infiltrated Fort Sutch, remained undetected, and replaced the medicine with the poison I provided. You are truly a master of shadow! It pleases me greatly to offer you this reward, and a well-earned bonus. I'll have another contract ready whenever you are," Ocheeva said, smiling warmly as Remy entered the room.

"If it's all the same to you, I'm ready right now," the Dunmer replied, storing the bag of septims and enchanted set of clothing that served as his reward in his pack. As nice as his break had been, he really was quite bored, and carrying out a contract would put an end to that.

"Do you like parties? Because you've been invited to one. Of course, you'll be killing all the other guests. Are you ready to attend?"

"I'm always ready for a party."

"Splendid. You need to go to the city of Skingrad, to the large house known as Summitmist Manor. There you will meet up with five very unlucky guests. In order to receive your bonus you must kill each guest secretly, one by one. If anyone sees you committing murder, the bonus is forfeit. The guests believe there is a chest of gold hidden in the house, and have agreed to be locked inside until one of them finds it.

"In fact, the guests believe that the key to the manor is inside the chest, and only by satisfying their greed will they be allowed to leave. Poor fools. There is, of course, no chest of gold. The guests will find no key. After you arrive, the doors will be locked behind you, as everyone suspects. When all the guests lie dead, you will be free to leave. Now go, see the doorman at Summitmist Manor. He will explain the rest. Have fun."

"That's a bit… elaborate, isn't it?" Remy asked, trying to wrap his head around the rather lengthy list of instructions he had received. Contracts were always more fun when there was more to them than simply killing someone, but he didn't see why whoever wanted all their "party guests" dead had gone to so much trouble. It seemed like a simple knife in the back would have been just as effective, really.

"Each guest, at some point in the past, wronged their mysterious host. Now he's hired us to exact his revenge," Ocheeva replied. "It is not our place to comment on the manner of execution he's chosen."

"Fair enough," he said, making his way out into the sanctuary's main room. "Hopefully I'll be seeing you again soon."

"Farewell, my brother," the Argonian called after him.

Much as he wanted to leave the sanctuary and head for Skingrad right away, Remy was just too exhausted to make the trip. He dragged himself into the living quarters and collapsed on the first empty bed he saw, hoping that Antoinetta was too drunk to remember the night's previous events. She was a good friend, and he didn't want any lingering awkwardness between them getting in the way of that. Even if she did remember what happened and turned it into an awkward conversation in the morning, it would be nice to talk to the rest of his fellow assassins and see if they had any suggestions for his latest contract. And he really needed to properly thank Gogron and Telaendril for giving him a helping hand at Bruma. That could all wait until morning, though, and the Dunmer was fast asleep in a matter of minutes.

Fortunately for Remy, Antoinetta either failed to remember anything after running into him in the Temple of the One or wanted to avoid talking about it just as much as he did, and he was able to make it out of the living quarters without incident the following morning. After asking around for information on the contract and receiving a bone-crushing hug and assurance that the Orc had been happy to behead a few Daedra on his behalf from Gogron, he left the sanctuary with no useful advice other than to dress appropriately. At least his latest bonus, the Deceiver's Finery, spared him the effort of shopping for party clothes. Even if it was uncomfortably warm with all the fur trim.

Aside from an ill-advised attempt to rob him from a Khajiit bandit and having to ride straight into a nasty thunderstorm, the Dunmer's trip to Skingrad was uneventful, and once he was through the city gates it didn't take him long to find Summitmist Manor.

"I'm here for the party," Remy said as he approached the door.

"So, the last guest finally arrives," the doorman replied, "I'll tell you what I told all the others. You go in, I lock the door. You don't come out 'til it's over. Now, I'll tell you what I didn't tell everyone else. We have the same Mother, you and I. And she wants you to have this. It's the key to the house. I guess somebody else already told you the other details. Kill all the guests then leave, right? Well, you'd better get in there. Time to mingle."

"Will do," the Dunmer said, grateful for the chance to get out of the rain.

Before he could take more than two steps past the door, however, he was ambushed by an elderly Breton woman who introduced herself as Matilde Petit. Everything seemed to be going well at first, though things took a turn for the worse when shortly after introducing herself she asked, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so…"

"Strange. You look so familiar, but I just can't remember why…"

"You must have me confused with someone else," Remy replied. It wasn't likely; he doubted there was a surplus of pink-haired Dunmer running about across Cyrodiil. Granted, if she had seen him somewhere it probably wasn't during one of his assassinations, but being outed as the Champion of Cyrodiil would make it difficult to avoid being noticed. Not to mention the fact that it would make less than no sense for him to be wasting time trying to find some random chest of gold.

"Now I remember!" Matilde said, looking quite pleased with herself. "You're one of those Arena fighters, aren't you? I saw one of your matches just a few days ago; you put on quite a show. What brings someone like you here?"

"Well, you see… My baby is sick, and I can't afford medicine for the poor thing," Remy internally winced the moment the words left his mouth. It wasn't one of his better lies, and he had no idea why the first thing that had popped into his mind was a sick non-existent child. Still, at least it made sense with Matilde's belief that he was just an Arena combatant. He wouldn't be lying if he said that the pay he got from it wasn't particularly high.

"Oh, that's awful! You're such a good father, putting yourself at risk like that for your little one. Your wife is a lucky woman."

"I like to think she would be, if I had one." By the Nine, he needed to stop talking…

"Well, good luck finding the gold, then! You need it more than I do," and with that, Matilde went to continue her own search.

Remy managed to introduce himself to the rest of the guests without incident, then found himself a comfortable chair to sit in while he figured out exactly how he was going to kill them all. His first victim ended up choosing for him when Neville, a former member of the Imperial Legion, went upstairs alone. Dovesi, a young Dunmer woman, was next when she decided to take an ill-advised nap after finding Neville's body. After that, he disposed of Matilde and Primo, an Imperial nobleman, by trailing them until they were out of earshot of the house's other occupants. Nels, a Nord, was his last victim, and while he caught on that the deaths of his fellow party guests were the work of an assassin and not petty greed, Remy managed to stab him in the back before he could arm himself.

Once he'd removed anything of value from the house and his victims, Remy made his way back out into Skingrad, hoping to make it back to Cheydinhal, or at least the Imperial City and his shack, before nightfall. Unfortunately, the rain had only grown worse while he carried out the contract, and after what seemed like an eternity of blindly wandering the streets in search of an inn, he decided to just spend the night in Summitmist Manor, instead. At least it was warm inside, and quite cozy once he'd moved all the corpses into the basement. He even managed to take a nice bath in the house's washroom, and was trying to decide which bed he wanted to sleep in when, in what was becoming a disturbingly normal occurrence, he found himself pinned to a wall.

"I wouldn't be opposed to some flowers or poetry, you know," he said, deciding to just enjoy having Lucien pressed against him instead of trying to get free like he usually did. "Is there a particular reason you're not wearing your robes, or are you just that eager to get me into bed?"

"I am not wearing my robes because they are soaking wet," the Imperial replied, nuzzling his captive's neck. "I could ask the same question about your own lack of pants."

"Mm…" Remy sighed, pressing himself against his captor as firmly as their position would allow. "I don't lack them. They're just drying by the fire."

"Whatever shall we do to pass the time until our clothes have dried, then?"

"I think I've got a few ideas…"

"Let's give them a try, then."

And Summitmist Manor was filled with screams for the second time that night.

"I'm glad you finally decided to return to the family," Lucien said, lazily stroking an exhausted Remy's hair.

"…Do me a favor and never refer to us that way in bed again, will you?" the Dunmer said, glaring at Lucien as menacingly as possible while using his chest as a pillow, "It ruins the mood. And I don't remember leaving anything. I just had other things to do. Nothing much, just saving the world. No need to thank me."

"Saving the world or not, I expect you to take on contracts on a more regular basis from now on. I've been far too lenient with you as it is."

"Can't we talk about this later? Now you're really ruining the mood…"

"It's not my fault you had no interest in talking earlier."

"Neither did you."

"Fair enough. While we're on the subject, did you really turn Mehrunes Dagon into a sheep during that final battle of yours?"

"Yes. Not that it helped much…"

"Are you telling me the assassin who just slaughtered a house full of people without a second thought is feeling guilty over failing to save one former priest?"

"He's feeling guilty over failing to save a good friend. One who deserves to be alive right now a lot more than he does…"

"If you're expecting sympathy and sappy assurances that none of that is true, then I'm afraid you've come to the wrong person."

"Well I'm not. That's the last thing I want. I just wanted someone to help me forget about it for awhile. Which, coincidentally, you happen to be exactly the right person for."

"In that case, I'm proud to have been of service to Cyrodiil's great and powerful Champion. Even if he does scream like a whore."

"In case it escaped your memory, I was one until not so long ago. Now shut up and let me sleep."

\- The next morning… -

The sun was shining brightly when Lucien awoke. He lazily threw one arm across the side of the bed Remy had occupied the night before, more out of curiosity than actually expecting to find anything there. He immediately snatched his hand back, however, when it made contact with a warm body that definitely did not belong to the Dunmer. Unless he had somehow managed to grow a set of breasts overnight which, impossible as it sounded, seemed to be the case when he sat up and took a good look at the figure laying next to him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, shaking his lover awake.

"Is it really that surprising I haven't left yet?" Remy asked, eyes still closed. "If it's such a problem, then you leave. I'm comfortable."

"Take a good look at yourself and then reconsider that question."

"Fine, but I don't see what…" Remy paused, obviously just as confused by this turn of events as he was. "Well. This is new."

"That's one way of putting it…"

"It's probably just some Daedra thing. Daedric princes are supposed to be able to change gender, right?"

"You show a surprising lack of concern about this."

"What? I can think of a lot worse fates than being a woman. Besides, I'm sure it's only temporary. If it doesn't wear off in the next few weeks, I'll just take a trip to the Shivering Isles and find some way to reverse it there."

"And how do you plan to explain this to the rest of the world?"

"I'll just bind the breasts down and act like everything's as it should be. As long as I'm not naked, I won't look that different."

"It should work on anyone who doesn't know you particularly well, but anyone that does is going to notice that something isn't right."

"I'll just tell them that this is what I look like without several layers of dirt," Remy replied, laying himself across the Imperial's lap. "You worry too much."

Lucien tensed. "On the contrary, I'd argue that you worry too little."

"You really need to relax," Remy sighed, "I think I could help with that, if you don't have any other plans for the day…"

"…Are you really suggesting that?"

"Of course I am. It'd be such a waste to have this body and never get to try it out… I've always wondered what sex feels like for women."

"In that case, I suppose I can stay for awhile longer…" Lucien said, fondling one of Remy's breasts. "If you promise not to disappear again."

"I promise," Remy replied, sighing contentedly at the contact.

"Excellent." He was going to have to pay whoever got the task of cleaning out the manor extra for the mess they'd be making of the bedroom, but at least he had an advantage over his wayward assassin again. Which was quite beneficial to him, really, as he had found himself missing the Dunmer himself just as much as the coin he brought in over the past few weeks.


	19. Chapter 19

The sun was setting by the time Remy finally made it out of Skingrad and began the long ride back to Cheydinhal. His… condition had yet to cure itself, but he had managed to bind his breasts down well enough that no one was likely to notice anything was amiss as long as he kept his armor on. And if they were looking at him closely enough to notice, he had more important things to be concerned about than a slightly puffy chest. Lucien had vanished after proving that he knew how to pleasure a woman's body just as well as a man's, and while the Dunmer certainly preferred being his proper gender, he was perfectly content with remaining female for as long as the Imperial was interested in him.

He decided to spend the night in the Imperial City, and wandered the streets of the Waterfront for a time, remembering what his life had been before that fateful night when he'd picked the worst possible person to proposition. He probably should have known better than to try and convince an Altmer to do something as undignified as bedding a common whore, but it had been a slow night and he was running out of coin. He remembered how pleased with himself he was when the Altmer was all too eager to take him up on his offer, and then everything going dark after the bastard hit him over the head with something heavy as soon as the Dunmer fulfilled his end of their arrangement. It wasn't the first time a client tried to get out of paying him, but it was the first time one had tried to go about it by killing him. And then done the same thing with another nine people, to boot. Remy had to admit, the elf was nothing if not ambitious.

Martin must have put in a good word for him with the other gods that night, as he found himself looking at the exact same Altmer after rounding the corner of the very street where their last encounter had taken place. While the Dunmer could have just stuck his knife in his back and been done with it, he decided to have a bit of fun with his victim first. Maybe even try to make him explain what in Sithis' name he'd killed all those people for in the first place. Still, he couldn't have the Altmer running away and squealing to the guards, so he lost no time in clubbing him over the head with a sturdy-looking piece of wood someone had left propped against a wall and dragging his unconscious body back to his house.

"Never thought I'd have the pleasure of entertaining you again," Remy said when the Altmer finally came to. "Of course, I would prefer it if you paid me for it this time around."

"What are you talking about?" the Altmer asked, rubbing his head. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You mean you don't recognize me? And I thought we had so much fun together, what with you having your way with me and getting me thrown in jail for the rest of your little 'adventures' that night…"

The Altmer squinted at him for a moment, then seemed to realize who he was talking to. "You seem to have done fairly well for yourself, all things considered. How did you manage to avoid a visit to the executioner?"

"The Emperor picked me up on his way out of the Imperial City on the night he was assassinated. I suppose I should thank you, really. If it weren't for you, I'd never have gotten myself named Champion of Cyrodiil."

"If you're so grateful, then why am I sitting on your floor with a splitting headache?"

"I'd just like to know what you were up to that night, that's all. Would you feel better if I found a pile of corpses to keep you company, or can you do without that luxury?"

"Point taken… If you must know, I, along with my Dunmer traveling companion, was on a quest for the Daedric Prince Hermaeus Mora. In exchange for his artifact, he required one soul from every race on Tamriel. Unfortunately, my companion failed to consider that the secret knowledge Hermaeus Mora offers is only a secret if it is not shared with others, regardless of how useful they were in acquiring it. As I only required one Dunmer soul, which he was more than capable, if somewhat unwilling, to provide for me when we returned to our lord's shrine, I had nothing to gain by killing you. If anything, I gained far more by keeping you alive; the guards had their culprit, and I got to continue my life."

"Well, I hope your reward was worth dying over," Remy drew his dagger and moved from his perch on his bed to the floor beside the Altmer.

"It certainly was, though perhaps it may also be worth sparing my life," the Altmer removed a large, ancient tome bound in a patchwork of materials from the folds of his robe. "Behold, the Oghma Infinium! The wealth of knowledge it contains is priceless, though it is of no use to me if I am dead. I will freely give it to you if you allow me to leave."

"No, thank you. I think I'll take your life instead. It's a fairer trade that way," and with that, Remy slit the Altmer's throat, tearing a strip of cloth from the elf's robes to soak up the blood before it could stain his floor. After that, all he had to do was drag the body into a deserted alley and go back home. With any luck, the guards would just assume it was a botched robbery. Even if they didn't, they'd have no reason to suspect the Champion of Cyrodiil of committing the murder.

The Oghma Infinium was sitting on the floor when Remy returned to his house. Under any other circumstances, he'd have picked it up and at least tried to read it in a heartbeat, but the fact that ten-eleven, now-had died for it, and that he was almost among that number, made it feel wrong to even be in the same room as the thing. Still, he couldn't just throw it out and wait for some random person to stumble across it so, foolish as it may have been, he tossed it into the fireplace.

It disappeared into a cloud of foul-smelling smoke almost instantly, slowly drifting out through the chimney and whatever cracks it could find in the walls and door over the next several minutes. Remy sat on his bed watching the fireplace for quite some time, eventually going to sleep when he was reasonably certain Hermaeus Mora wasn't planning to take any sort of action against him. If he had offended the Daedric Prince in some way, he could sort it out once he was back in the Shivering Isles. Whenever that ended up being. It couldn't be much worse than having Mehrunes Dagon angry with him, after all.

He set out for the sanctuary early the next morning, and headed straight for Ocheeva's chamber once he got there. As usual, the Argonian seemed to be waiting for him. Apparently, overseeing a Dark Brotherhood sanctuary gave one the same powers as being a mother did.

"Well done! Not only did you kill the five guests, you aced as an agent of terror and grief. You have earned your reward and bonus, Assassin. I lay upon you now the Night Mother's Blessing. May she walk with you always, and guide your hand as you act in accordance with the Five Tenets," she said, and while she didn't touch him or perform any magic that he could see, Remy felt a definite change in himself. Nothing significant, or anything that he could find words to describe, just a difference in how his body felt and the way he sensed the world around him. The gold he received was easy to describe and understand, however, as usual. "When you're ready, I have a most important contract. One that has been sanctioned by the Black Hand itself."

"Let's hear it, then," said Remy. Maybe Ocheeva didn't have motherhood-related powers of observation so much as she had Lucien visit-related powers of observation.

"Do you recall the name Adamus Phillida? The Imperial Legion pest? It's time he joined Sithis in the void. Think you're up to the task?"

"…Well, if the Black Hand thinks I am, I'm not going to tell them otherwise," he certainly wasn't particularly enthusiastic about trying to kill the man, but he was a lot less enthusiastic about disobeying an order and facing the Wrath of Sithis.

"Adamus Phillida has spent his entire career investigating the Dark Brotherhood, interrupting our contracts, killing our family members! We tried to eliminate Phillida, of course, but failed on three separate occasions. He's a powerful man, and was surrounded by powerful associates. Now the Legion pig's years of service have come to an end. He had retired. Phillida must not be allowed such a victory! His destiny is… darker. Phillida now resides in Leyawiin, in the City Watch barracks, an honored guest of the soldiers there. He is, in fact, more vulnerable than ever."

"Where do I come in?" Remy asked, not entirely sure that Ocheeva fully understood what the word 'vulnerable' meant. And if spending most of his day surrounded by Imperial guards was what she considered vulnerable, he'd hate to see what she referred to as well-protected.

"The Black Hand has sanctioned the Rose of Sithis. It is a magic arrow specifically enchanted to kill its target. In this case, Phillida. As long as the arrow hits Phillida, he will die. But it cannot pierce armor! Shoot while Phillida is armored, and the Rose will be wasted. Travel to Leyawiin. Track Phillida. Learn his schedule. Observe when he removes that blasted Legion armor! And then, let fly the Rose of Sithis! Kill Phillida in any way, Rose or not, and the contract is complete. But to receive a bonus, you must go beyond murder. You must send a message! Once Phillida is dead, take the very finger from his corpse, the one that bears an Imperial Legion signet ring. Deposit this finger in the desk of Phillida's successor, in his office in the Prison Barracks, in the Imperial City. Do this, and the bonus is yours," Ocheeva replied, grinning in a decidedly sadistic manner. "Adamus Phillida will find no rest in retirement. No, his soul will endure a kind of eternal suffering known only to those who have angered Sithis."

"I'll see what I can do," Remy said, making his way out of the Argonian's chambers. Either Adamus Phillida had become a lot less threatening over the past couple of months, or Lucien was trying to kill him. Or had been ordered by the rest of the Black Hand to kill him. Either way, he did not have an easy task ahead of him.

The Rose of Sithis would definitely be useful, but he only got one chance to hit Phillida with it. Yes, his archery skills had improved greatly since he first joined the Dark Brotherhood, but he was still far from perfect. Then there was the matter of escaping once the assassination was carried out. It seemed unlikely that he'd be able to kill Phillida without being detected by at least one other guard, especially since he needed to remove a finger from the corpse. His armor and hood would conceal his identity well enough, but if any guards managed to pull the hood back they'd all know exactly who he was.

…Unless he didn't carry out the assassination as himself. He lost no time in stopping by the sanctuary living quarters.

"Telaendril, I need to borrow a dress," he said as he entered the chamber that served as a bedroom and dining room for the Cheydinhal branch of the Dark Brotherhood.

"I suppose I can spare one," the Bosmer replied, clearly confused by his request. "Would you like to explain why you have a sudden need for women's clothing?"

"I need to kill Adamus Phillida, and if anyone sees me I'd rather not look like myself."

"Fair enough," said Telaendril, removing a dress from the chest at the foot of her bed and tossing it to him. "What are you going to do about that hair of yours?"

"I'm still trying to work that one out."

"Oh, I know!" Antoinetta called from across the room. "I've got some charcoal that should darken it right up! Or we could use ink, but I don't know if you want something that permanent…"

"Antoinetta, you're a genius," Remy replied, "Though I think I'll stick to the charcoal for now."

The three of them spent the better part of the next two hours working enough charcoal into Remy's hair to keep it dark for what they hoped would be long enough for him to carry out his contract. They then tried to figure out how to get themselves out of the sanctuary without getting the charcoal they were all covered in on anything else so they could wash themselves off, trying in vain to open the heavy wooden doors leading into the sanctuary's main chamber without touching their handles until Teinaava heard the noise they were making and opened it for them. After having a good laugh at their somewhat blackened appearances, he brought them a bucket of water to wash off in.

Once he was reasonably clean, Remy exited the sanctuary through its main door, changing from his armor into the dress he borrowed from Telaendril in the abandoned house's basement. It was surprisingly comfortable and easy to move in, and unbinding his breasts felt more than good. As he made his way to the stables, no one gave him a second glance, exactly as he'd hoped.

He reached Leyawiin late that night, renting a room at a relatively cheap inn where he slept for a few hours before making his way to the City Watch barracks. Phillida and his bodyguard exited the building soon after he arrived, and after following them around the city and the land surrounding it until well into the afternoon, they finally stopped by a large pool of water. Remy moved into the shadows of one of the houses surrounding it, watching as the man removed his armor and went for a swim under the watchful eye of his bodyguard.

The Dunmer drew his bow and removed the Rose of Sithis from his quiver, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he prepared to fire the shot that he hoped would put an end to Phillida's life. He released the arrow when the man next came up for air, and it firmly lodged itself in his shoulder. Phillida didn't even have time to cry out before succumbing to its effects, floating lifelessly in the water. His bodyguard called out to him, aware that something was amiss, and Remy realized he would have to act quickly if he had any hope of retrieving Phillida's finger and obtaining his bonus. Grateful that he had decided to go ahead with disguising himself, he waded into the shallow edge of the pool Phillida's corpse had drifted into and sawed the finger the man wore his signet ring on off with his dagger.

Once the finger was safely tucked into a pouch on his belt, he ran, narrowly avoiding an arrow from Phillida's bodyguard as he rounded the corner of a row of houses and headed for the city gate. The alarm had been raised, however, and soon what seemed like every guard in the city was on his heels, either shooting at him or attempting to get close enough to him for melee combat. He somehow managed to make it out the gate and onto his horse without being hit, and took off into the surrounding forest as fast as he could convince the animal to move.

The guards tried to keep up with him, but he soon left them far behind. Once he was confident they'd lost track of him, he stopped on the shore of the river, where he washed the charcoal out of his hair as well as he could and changed into the Arena armor he'd stashed in his pack. After that, he rode to the Imperial City at a leisurely pace, confident that even if the guards did catch up to him, he wasn't what they would be looking for. Once he was there, he managed to sneak into the office of Phillida's successor and leave the severed finger in his desk without being detected.

He then returned to Cheydinhal and the sanctuary, where he found Ocheeva pacing back and forth inside her chamber. She abruptly stopped and turned her full attention to him when she heard the doors open.

"Adamus Phillida is dead! I could feel my heart swell with the Night Mother's love the moment that Imperial pig issued his last breath! You have done a great service to the Dark Brotherhood today, Assassin. Your reward is well earned," she said, presenting him with a surprisingly heavy bag of gold. "You also managed to leave Phillida's severed finger as a warning to his successor. Well done! Your bonus, five hundred additional gold coins, is well earned. Go now. Get some rest. Sithis knows you've earned it. When you're ready for another contract, you need only ask."

"Will do," Remy replied, making his way to the sanctuary living quarters for a well-deserved bit of rest. He was quite proud of himself, really. One of his plans had actually worked properly, and it couldn't have happened at a better time. Even Lucien would have a hard time finding something to complain about this time around.

He was nudged awake far earlier than he would have liked the next morning, and opened his eyes to find Ocheeva standing beside his bed, a letter in her hand.

"What is it?" he asked, dragging himself into a sitting position.

The Argonian smiled at him and handed him the letter. "Ah, Assassin, I must speak with you. It is quite urgent. A sealed letter just arrived from a Dark Brotherhood Courier. I recognize this type of parcel. It contains sealed orders. It's addressed to you… from Lucien Lachance. You must open these sealed orders immediately and follow their instructions to the letter. It would seem the Black Hand itself has a task for you."


	20. Chapter 20

The letter didn't contain any specific information; it simply commanded him to visit Lucien at Fort Farragut immediately due to some sort of threat to the Dark Brotherhood and to avoid talking to the rest of the Cheydinhal sanctuary residents about said visit. Remy was more upset than he probably should have been upon seeing that the letter referred to him by his rank instead of his name, but was more concerned by its overall tone. The cold, level-headed way Lucien usually spoke was replaced by a tone that bordered on desperation. And if whatever this threat to the Dark Brotherhood was had Lucien afraid, then he wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with it. He also wasn't looking forward to discovering what the 'rotting sentinels' guarding the fort that the man had mentioned were, but he wasn't about to let Lucien down.

The Dunmer forced himself to walk to the ladder that led to the empty well that served as the sanctuary's secret entrance, then climbed it as fast as he could and sprinted to the city gate. Once he was outside Cheydinhal, he mounted his horse and rode to the crumbling ruins that he assumed were Fort Farragut. Remy didn't encounter any resistance outside the fort's walls, but once inside he quickly realized what he was up against. There was a Dark Guardian in the first chamber the Dunmer entered, its bones clacking together as it patrolled the room. After several moments of remaining frozen in terror, he managed to pick the lock on a large door that he hoped would lead him to the rest of the fort and slip through it unnoticed. When he found another of the creatures patrolling the narrow hallway it led to, however, he was given no choice but to fight it or turn back.

Once he reduced the Dark Guardian to a pile of bones, he was almost crushed by a shower of rocks he let loose after getting his leg caught on a tripwire, and began to wonder if his secret mission was to get himself killed on his way to Lucien. After fighting several more Dark Guardians and narrowly avoiding a fall into a spike-filled pit, his eagerness to see the Imperial was severely diminished. When he was turned into a living pincushion by more darts than it should have been possible to stuff into a wall, he seriously considered leaving the fort and letting Lucien deal with his own damn problems. He ultimately decided to press on, however, and, after getting a gate between him and the first properly lit chamber he'd come across open, he found Lucien waiting for him.

"There had better be a damn good reason you put me through all that," Remy growled, plucking a dart from his shoulder and snapping it in half before tossing its remains across the room.

To his credit, the Imperial seemed surprised to see the Dunmer in such a state, and sounded vaguely apologetic when he replied, "I'm afraid there is a… situation."

"What is this situation of yours, then? And was it really worth putting me through all that for?"

Lucien sighed. "I had to be certain you were worthy of the task I am about to assign you. The time has come to test both your skill and your loyalty to Sithis. The Black Hand has learned that the Dark Brotherhood has been infiltrated. By whom, and for what purpose, we do not yet know. What we do know is that there is some link between the traitor and the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. The traitor has tainted that place beyond repair. It was learned that the traitor has been active for quite some time, since before you joined the Brotherhood. That absolves you of any suspicion."

Remy's blood ran cold when he realized what Lucien's words implied. "Wait, you can't possibly mean…"

"Oh, but I do. You have been selected by the Black Hand to perform the ancient rite known as Purification."

"What's a Purification?"

"Everyone inside the Sanctuary must die! You must break one of the Tenets you have sworn to uphold. I know this is an unexpected turn of events, but drastic measures must be taken. Ocheeva, Vicente Valtieri, Antoinetta Marie, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Telaendril, M'raaj-Dar and Teinaava. All of these family members must die! From this point forward, you are no longer bound by the Five Tenets. Sithis will forgive any murder, any theft, so long as you serve the Black Hand. When the rite of Purification has been completed, return to me here at Fort Farragut, and we will discuss your future. Now, take these special gifts. They will help you greatly. One is a poisoned apple. The other, a unique scroll of summoning. Good luck... Silencer."

"How can you be so calm about all this?" Remy asked, shaking with barely concealed rage. It didn't make sense… Lucien was loved and revered by every resident of the sanctuary, he called them his family, and yet he didn't show a shred of emotion when ordering their execution.

"As unfortunate as it is, there are times when a few of our brothers and sisters must be sacrificed for the good of the-" Lucien was cut off mid-sentence by a surprisingly hard slap across the face from Remy.

"Don't you even care?! Even if one of the people in that sanctuary is the traitor, which seems pretty damn unlikely, six of them haven't done anything wrong! Are you seriously telling me that there is no other way to get rid of the traitor? How is it that your job is to keep your sanctuary running, but you can't monitor any of us well enough to know whether or not we've been killing off other assassins? You've got to be the most-"

"Enough!" Lucien snapped, putting an end to the Dunmer's infuriated rambling. His cold, emotionless façade cracked along with his voice as he continued, "I don't want this any more than you do, but my hands are tied. When the Listener gives an order, I am bound by it as thoroughly as any other assassin. I did everything in my power to buy more time so I could spare as many lives as possible, but the rest of the Black Hand would have none of it..."

"I'm sorry…" Remy replied, taken aback by the anguish in the Imperial's voice.

"Do you have any idea what I had to go through to convince them to spare your life? I am well aware that I have failed in my duties as a Speaker. You may hate me for it if you wish, but the least you can do is show a bit of gratitude for my saving you from the same fate as the rest of the sanctuary."

"I don't hate you for this," Remy said, the last of his anger fading. "And I am grateful that you convinced them not to have me killed."

"I apologize for letting the task of carrying out the Purification fall to you, but it is necessary in order to convince the rest of the Black Hand that such a recent addition to our family is worthy of becoming my Silencer. I would advise against going against your orders and trying to save them; if you do not kill them, someone else will, and they will not give them as quick and painless a death as you would."

"I'll do it. I should probably be going now, shouldn't I?"

"No. At least let me patch you up first. I am not sending you to kill a sanctuary filled with highly skilled assassins while you're half-dead."

"I can heal myself."

"Rubbing a healing potion on your wounds and hoping for the best does not count."

"It's worked well enough for me so far."

"That may be so, but it is still not as effective as receiving proper medical attention," Lucien replied. "Now remove your armor and sit on the bed."

"I like the sound of this so far," Remy said, stripping himself and flopping down on the Imperial's bed. "When do we get to the fun part?"

Lucien sighed. "This is hardly the time, Silencer… And unless you consider getting your wounds thoroughly scrubbed and having the larger ones stitched shut to be enjoyable, you'll be waiting quite a long time for the 'fun part'."

"You just can't let me try and keep myself distracted, can you?"

"Not when being distracted on this contract is likely to get you killed," Lucien replied. "Now hold still, or I will tie you to the bed."

"So there is going to be a fun part…"

"Not if I decide to leave the room and let my Dark Guardians have a bit of fun with you afterwards."

"Point taken."

Remy held himself as still as possible while Lucien spent what felt like at least the next hour vigorously scrubbing at his injuries and, as promised, stitching the worst ones shut. While this somehow caused his wounds to hurt more than they had when he got them, the Dunmer was able to keep from fidgeting too much and managed to avoid protesting too vocally.

When Lucien was finally satisfied with his work, Remy lost no time in dressing himself and leaving Fort Farragut through the hidden trapdoor in the chamber the Imperial called home. He found himself slowing down considerably, however, as he drew closer to the gates of Cheydinhal. He wasn't particularly close to most of the sanctuary's residents, but he liked all of them but M'raaj-Dar, the Khajiit who had developed a hatred for him on sight, well enough. He certainly didn't have a desire to kill any of them. If anything, he'd been looking forward to getting to know them all better now that he didn't have to spend most of his time running back and forth across Cyrodiil collecting things for Martin.

Still, he couldn't deny that what Lucien had said was true. Refusing to carry out his orders would only delay their deaths, not stop them. He'd probably get himself killed in the process, too, and even if he survived he doubted that Lucien would be willing or able to have anything to do with him. And, seeing as the Imperial was going to be the closest thing he had left to a friend in the world once the Purification was carried out, that was something he wanted to avoid.

As he climbed into the well that hid the secret entrance to the sanctuary, he decided that he would make things as quick as possible. It would be easier on him and his soon-to-be victims that way. He'd spend the rest of the day interacting with the sanctuary's residents as though nothing was out of the ordinary, hopefully learning what each of their daily routines was like in the process. Then, he would start picking them off one by one the next morning and try to finish the job before any of them realized what was happening. Or he had time to have second thoughts about what he was doing.

Everything started off well enough, with each of his fellow assassins greeting him in their usual manner. All of them except for M'raaj-Dar, that is. The Khajiit surprised Remy by going out of his way to congratulate him on all he had accomplished for the Dark Brotherhood, and expressed a seemingly genuine desire to become friends. While Remy would have been thrilled by the gesture under any other circumstances, he couldn't help but wish that the Khajiit still hated him. Until that point, he had been able to take comfort in the thought that there was at least one person in the sanctuary he wouldn't mourn the passing of, but it seemed that he was to be denied even that small consolation.

The Dunmer found himself trying to make the most of his last hours with what truly had come to be a family of sorts to him instead of thinking of ways to kill them, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He did, however, learn that Telaendril was away from the sanctuary and not scheduled to return for another two days, meaning that he was going to have to stay in the city for an extra day after he'd killed the rest of the sanctuary. There wasn't anything he could do about it at that point, though, and he doubted he'd be able to act as though nothing was wrong long enough for her to return. He was generally a good liar, but he'd never been able to deceive anyone he genuinely cared about very well.

Once everyone else had retired to their rooms for the night, Remy began his work after a few hours of restlessly laying on his bed in the sanctuary living quarters. Ocheeva was first, as it seemed as though she and Vicente were most likely to catch on to what was happening and her room was closer to the rest of the sanctuary than the vampire's was. He was able to cleanly and quietly slit her throat while she slept, and quickly made his way down the long, winding corridor to Vicente's chamber. The vampire was sitting at his table, calmly sipping at a glass of what was either wine or blood.

"Please, do come in and join me," he said, patting the empty chair next to him. "I've been expecting you."

"Alright, then…" Remy replied, trying not to let his worry show as he sat beside the vampire.

"I believe I know what you have been sent here to do," Vicente said, chuckling at the stunned look the Dunmer gave him. "I could smell the fear on you from the moment you entered the sanctuary, just as I can smell Ocheeva's blood on your dagger. The Black Hand has chosen to Purify our sanctuary, has it not?"

"…Yes," Remy replied. Yes, he was technically disobeying orders, but he didn't see much point in secrecy when Vicente had already figured things out. He suddenly found himself struggling to hold back tears. "I'm sorry… If you want to fight me, I understand, and if you kill me I won't hold it against you. I don't want to do this, and I don't think any of you are a traitor, but I don't have a choice."

"I see no need to resort to such drastic measures. I have lived more than my fair share of years, and killing you would only add one more name to the list of those wrongfully killed in place of the traitor. While I hope that Lucien is already aware of this, do tell him not to let his guard down. I doubt that a Purification will be enough to put a stop to the traitor, if they are even among us."

"So… what happens now?"

"The poison I have ingested should claim my life at any moment. After that, you have several more assassins to assassinate, do you not?"

"You poisoned yourself?"

"Yes. I desire a peaceful death, and enough members of our family are going to be dead by your hand as it is without me. You do not need to take responsibility for any more."

"Thanks, I guess…"

"Really, it's a miracle I've… lasted this…" the vampire's voice trailed off as he slumped forward onto the table, dead. The poison-laced liquid he'd been drinking spilled across the table and onto the floor.

After checking for a pulse (if vampires even had pulses, but he didn't have any better idea how to see if Vicente was properly dead or not) and finding none, Remy crept back to the sanctuary living quarters. There he found Gogron, M'raaj-Dar, and Teinaava soundly asleep. Antoinetta had apparently woken up and gone to do something or other, but he'd deal with that later. He managed to neatly cut each of their throats without waking any of them until it was too late, then went in search of Antoinetta.

He found her in the training room, where she had apparently decided to take advantage of the early morning peace and quiet to practice stealth attacks. The door creaked as he entered, and she turned to greet him, apparently unaware that they were the last two people alive in the sanctuary.

"Hello, brother. You're up early today. Is there something you need?" she asked.

"I just thought I'd try and get some training in. It seems like you had the same idea…" Remy replied, fidgeting uncomfortably. He'd grown closer to Antoinetta than anyone else in the sanctuary during his time there, and she was going to be the hardest to kill. It didn't help that she seemed like the least likely one to be the traitor, either…

"…Listen, about what happened the other night…" the Breton began, "I'm sorry about what happened. I just drank too much, and it always makes me act strangely. I'd never do something like that normally. Unless you wanted me to, that is. Then I might…"

"It's alright, Antoinetta," Remy replied, smiling ruefully as he hugged the woman. "You've been a good friend, and I wouldn't let something that small put an end to that. …And I'm sorry, too, for what I have to do now…" his voice cracked as he spoke the last few words and removed one hand from Antoinetta's back so he could unsheathe his dagger.

"What are you talking abou-" Antoinetta was cut off mid-question as the Dunmer buried his dagger in her back. She collapsed to the floor, a confused expression on her face as the life rapidly faded from her eyes.

Remy felt as though he had also been the one stabbed in the back as he watched her die, and assumed it was just guilt until he looked down to see the head of an arrow protruding from his chest. He turned around to find Telaendril standing in the doorway, her face twisted into a snarl as she prepared to fire another shot at him. Apparently she'd decided to come home early.

With no time to think about anything but not getting shot again, Remy pushed aside the pain and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the Bosmer's next arrow. As she removed another from her quiver, he grabbed a sword from one of the racks against the wall. It wasn't particularly sharp or well-made, being intended for practice instead of real combat, but it would have to do. He rapidly closed the distance between himself and Telaendril as she took aim at him, driving the sword through her chest before she could release the arrow.

As she fell to the ground, completing his contract with her death, Remy staggered away from her corpse, eventually collapsing at the foot of the ladder leading out of the sanctuary's secret entrance. The arrow that had struck him seemed to have miraculously passed through without damaging anything important along the way, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He hissed in pain as he tugged at the shaft; there was no way he was going to get it out without help. And since there was no one left in the sanctuary to help him, there was only one person he could go to. Moving slowly and carefully in an attempt to minimize any further pain he would cause himself on the journey, he climbed up the ladder and headed for Fort Farragut, where he hoped to find Lucien waiting for him.


	21. Chapter 21

Lucien pulled the trapdoor leading to his chamber in Fort Farragut shut somewhat more firmly than he needed to behind him, muttering under his breath about nosy shopkeepers and unreasonable prices as he climbed down the rope ladder it led to. He hadn't planned to leave the fort until his Silencer returned from carrying out the Purification, but he'd had little choice in the matter. He lacked the supplies he needed to reset and reload all the traps the Dunmer had managed to set off on his way in, and he wasn't about to leave his home unprotected until he was certain the traitor had been disposed of. He'd been able to find most of what he needed in Cheydinhal, but no merchants in the city carried the materials he required to make more darts, and his Dark Guardians needed more equipment than the blacksmith had available before they would be effective again. His Silencer had seen to that when he decided to run off with most of their weaponry while finding his way through the fort.

In the end, he'd managed to buy the rest of what he needed during a brief trip to the Imperial City, but had been away from the fort far longer than he wanted to in the process. Granted, he doubted he'd be seeing the Dunmer again for the next few days at least, but he didn't like taking any unnecessary chances. It would not do to appear unprepared for the Black Hand's newest member's return from his initiation, after all. Even if he had ruined the careful preparations Lucien had made for the Purification by leaving his summoning scroll and poisoned apple behind in his mad rush to leave Fort Sutch.

Lucien almost fell off the ladder when he saw the crumpled figure with an arrow through its chest lying beside his bed, and an entirely unwelcome sense of dread froze the blood in his veins when a closer inspection revealed that it was, in fact, his Silencer. He nudged the limp body with his foot, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when the Dunmer stirred and let out a low groan.

"What in Sithis' name happened to you?" the Imperial asked.

"Telaendril…" Remy weakly replied, "Didn't think she'd come back so early… Still killed her, though. Contract's done."

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be having this conversation. How long have you been bleeding on my floor for?"

"Probably not much more than an hour or two… Can we not talk about this until we get this arrow out of my chest? It's a bit painful."

"I'll get it out as soon as you get yourself off the floor," Lucien replied, hauling the Dunmer to his feet and sitting him down on the bed. After a few experimental tugs accompanied by quite vocal protests and an impressively long string of obscenities from Remy, he was satisfied that the arrow was well and truly impossible to pull back out safely.

"I'll need to borrow your dagger," he said. If he was going to push the arrow the rest of the way through the Dunmer's body, its fletching would need to come off first. Useful as it was for stabbing people, his shortsword was not suited for cutting through arrows.

"I can't," Remy replied, "I don't have it with me."

"Where is it, then?"

"Probably still in Antoinetta."

"You left your primary weapon behind at the site of a contract? Why am I not surprised…"

"Sorry? In my defense, getting shot is fairly distracting."

"You should be apologizing to yourself. It doesn't matter to me how I get the fletching off this arrow, but cutting it off wouldn't have moved it as much as this. Your carelessness is only going to cause you more pain." Lucien replied, snapping the fletched end of the arrow off.

Remy cried out in pain, and probably would have fallen off the bed and onto his face if Lucien hadn't held him in place. Under normal circumstances, he might have been grateful, but gratitude wasn't the first thing on his mind after having that damned arrow moved again. Before he cold string together any kind of coherent sentence, another searing wave of pain washed over him as the Imperial shoved the back of the arrow as far through his body as was possible. The world began to fade in and out of focus around him as Lucien grabbed the arrow just behind its head, and went completely black as he pulled it the rest of the way out.

He awoke to find himself alone on the bed in naught but his smallclothes and several bandages tightly wound around his sore, still all too female chest. He made a mental note to get himself to the portal to the Shivering Isles as soon as possible; being female may have been amusing at first, but he was more than ready to have his old body back. Nothing felt right anymore, and having his chest bound most of the time was incredibly uncomfortable. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as getting that arrow removed, though, and he was definitely feeling much better than he had earlier. He found his armor neatly folded on the floor beside the bed, with his dagger sitting on top of it. It seemed Lucien had gone to the sanctuary while he was unconscious and retrieved it for him, though at that moment he was either away from the fort or doing something in another of its chambers.

The Dunmer dressed himself as quickly as possible, and returned his dagger to its sheath before taking a walk around the chamber. The crippling pain in his chest had faded to a dull ache, and everything else was in working order as well. He still felt a twinge of guilt when he thought of how he'd ended up with the arrow in his chest, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. He wished that things had ended differently, but at least he knew that aside from Telaendril his former guildmates had died as peacefully as they were likely to. And at least Vicente hadn't held him responsible for the way things had turned out. He hoped that the others would feel the same if they knew what the vampire had known now that they were in the Void. As he sat on the bed to wait for Lucien's return the man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, seated on a chest a few feet away from the bed.

"The ritual of Purification is complete. Well done," the Imperial said, letting out what was either a sigh or an abnormally loud exhale. "Sithis has been appeased, and the time has come to acknowledge and reward your unwavering loyalty. The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress. You have been invited to share in secrets that few within the Dark Brotherhood even know exist. Your life in the Sanctuary is over. Those contracts are behind you. Now, you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve me. From this moment forward, you will walk the shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun."

"So, what happens now?"

"Now you embrace your fate. No longer will you receive orders directly. Instead, you will visit dead drop locations scattered throughout Cyrodiil. Your next contract can be found at the dead drop on Hero Hill, southeast of here. A hollow in the moss-covered rock contains all you need to know. When you leave here, we will not speak again, unless I deem it necessary."

"What?" Remy tried to maintain his composure in spite of feeling as though he'd just had another arrow shot through his back. Sure, he'd never really expected what he and Lucien had to last, but he didn't see why the Imperial had chosen that particular moment to end things. "…This is the end for us, then?"

"I felt that it was the best course of action in light of recent events," Lucien seemed puzzled by his response. "You stated your opinion of me quite clearly when I gave you your last contract; I assumed that you had no further interest in me."

"…That's what this is about?" the Dunmer asked, inwardly cringing at how much he sounded like a bitter, jilted former lover. "Yes, I was angry that you ordered me to kill the closest thing I've had to a family in years. I still am. But I'm not too angry to see that you cared enough to spare me from their fate, or that the rest of the Black Hand are the ones I should be angry at. Right now, you're all I have left in this world, and I'm not about to lose you if I get a say in the matter. If you'd rather seduce a newer member of the family than stay involved with me, fine, but the least you can do is talk to me every now and again."

"What makes you think that I've lost interest in you already?"

"You don't seem like the type to keep a lover for very long."

"Neither do you…"

"Yes, but I'm not the one who never wants to speak to me again."

"In that case," Lucien said, crossing the distance between them and pinning Remy to the bed before the Dunmer could so much as blink, "allow me to apologize for my misjudgment and offer you another possible course of action."

"I'm listening," Remy replied, his relief at the return to what had become normal to him ruining his attempt at sounding irritated.

"You will receive your contracts in the form of dead drops because having you come here too often would mean risking drawing far too much attention to myself. However, if you continue to carry out your contracts in an acceptable fashion, I may leave you additional instructions on where I can be found when I find myself with extra time on my hands. So that you still have someone to talk to, of course."

"And if I want to do more than just talk?" Remy asked, wiggling suggestively beneath the Imperial.

"Well," Lucien smirked, nibbling lightly at his ear, "I suppose that could also be arranged. I doubt I will cease to have an interest in you for a very long time…"

"I shouldn't have bothered with putting my armor back on, should I?"

"You really shouldn't have."

Compared to the Dunmer's past experiences with the man, Lucien was almost gentle with him this time, favoring light touches and soft caresses over their usual frenzied grasping and bruising embraces. Whether it was in an effort to help his wound heal better or out of relief that he, too, hadn't lost everything in the Purification, Remy doubted he'd ever know. Either way, it seemed as though something had changed between them, brought them closer, and things could never quite go back to the way they were before. While under any other circumstances the thought would have frightened him beyond measure, he found that the simple fact that it had happened with Lucien made it almost pleasant.

After they had dressed themselves again, Remy prepared to leave the fort in search of his first dead drop. As he sheepishly collected the poisoned apple and summoning scroll he had left behind on his last visit and placed them in his pack in case he found a use for them later, Lucien said, "Ah yes, there is one last thing. I have for you a very special gift. Waiting just outside is a magnificent steed named Shadowmere. She has served me well. I present her now to you, as a token of my trust and love."

"What's wrong with the horse I have now?"

"I will not have my Silencer riding about on such a slow horse. I'm sure it will appreciate a rest after everything you put it through while saving the world, anyway."

"You're probably right… What's so special about being a Silencer, anyway?"

"The Black Hand is the Dark Brotherhood's ruling council. That hand consists of four Speakers and one Listener. Four fingers and a thumb, as it were. This you already know. What is not commonly known among our family members is that the Black Hand employs a few... additional numbers. As every hand has fingers, does not every finger have a nail? A claw? A talon? Every finger of the hand, every Speaker, has such a nail. These are the Silencers. Each Speaker employs his or her own private assassin, to extend their reach and strike forth as necessary. My previous Silencer perished while fulfilling a contract. That emptiness has now been filled by you. It is an honor without equal."

"So I'm your fingernail? That doesn't sound particularly honorable… It's not a very flattering mental image, either."

Lucien sighed, "That was not the point… Now go, and may Sithis guide you in this new stage of your life's dark journey."

"Right. May Sithis guide you, too," Remy wondered if he'd ever get used to the Dark Brotherhood's greetings and farewells. "The dead drop is at Hero Hill, right?"

"Yes. Inside the hollowed-out, moss-covered rock."

"Did you leave it there because everyone's been calling me the Hero of Kvatch, or do you send all your Silencers there?"

"Just go…"

"Alright, I'm going…"

Remy pulled himself up the rope ladder leading out of Fort Farragut with almost no pain, and went looking for the horse Lucien had mentioned. The paint horse he'd borrowed from Weynon Priory all those months ago would be well taken care of at Cheydinhal's stables, and he doubted that it would have wanted to go back to its old home anyway now that none of its former masters remained there. He found Shadowmere standing by the fort's main entrance. Her glossy black coat shined in the sunlight as she turned to face him, and unless he wasn't seeing things right her eyes were dark red in color. It was close enough to brown that he doubted anyone would comment on it, but he could definitely see why Lucien liked her so much. If someone had wanted to create a representation of the Dark Brotherhood in horse form, he doubted it would have looked any different than Shadowmere.

He slowly approached the horse, and stopped just within arm's reach of her. After staring at him for a moment she snorted, crossed the remaining distance between them, and almost immediately tried to eat his hair. The Dunmer yelped, snatching his ponytail out of the horse's mouth before she could do any damage to it. She looked vaguely disappointed, as though his hair hadn't tasted like she thought it would, and bent down to nibble at the grass at her feet instead.

Satisfied that at the very least Shadowmere didn't hate him, Remy swung himself onto her back, turned her in the general direction of Hero Hill, and gently urged her forward. He almost fell off her back when she took off at a gallop far faster than anything his former horse had been capable, and after several failed attempts at slowing her down he settled for simply clinging to the reins and keeping her headed in the right direction. It wasn't until he was some distance away from the fort that the realization that Lucien had mentioned love hit him, though he decided he'd rather not deal with that until he absolutely had to.

They reached Hero Hill far more quickly than he'd expected to and, almost as if she'd known where she was going, Shadowmere obeyed his instructions to slow down and eventually came to a stop beside a large, moss-covered rock. After a bit of feeling around, Remy found a hole in its surface and reached into it to find a sealed roll of paper. It contained instructions to kill a powerful necromancer living in Leafrot Cave, which was located somewhere east of Bravil, and look for his next dead drop in Chorrol once he was done. Which, despite the fact that he'd probably have to come closer to undead creatures than he liked to, was rather convenient in that it would allow him to make a visit to the Shivering Isles and find out what was wrong with his body.

Seeing no reason to delay his journey, he set off for the city of Bravil. Once there, he left Shadowmere at the stables and began the long swim out to the island that housed the portal to Sheogorath's-well, technically his now-plane of Oblivion. Once he was through the portal, he elected to simply summon Haskill instead of walking all the way to New Sheoth. As his Chamberlain materialized in front of him, he made a mental note to try and find some way to get that spell to work in Tamriel. It would be a lot more convenient to simply summon Haskill when he had a question than to travel all the way out to the portal.

"How may I be of service, my lord?" the Breton asked, his tone as flat and somewhat exasperated as always.

"Well, um…" Remy began, still not at all used to his title. He wasn't sure he ever would be, really. "How exactly do I get myself back to being a man? I seem to be stuck as a woman at the moment, and it's getting inconvenient…"

"Your body should right itself as soon as your child is born, my lord. I'm not sure what you expected when you decided to breed with that mortal of yours…"

"…What?"

"You mean you were not aware of your condition? Why else would you have suddenly found yourself in a female body?"

"I thought I'd just used some kind of Daedric Prince magic in my sleep!"

"Your assumption was correct, my lord; you simply misjudged the reason behind it. Though I cannot imagine why, you decided you wanted to have a child with your lover and changed your body to make that possible. You do know how such things work, I presume? If you were so against the idea of children then you really should have taken precautions to prevent this from happening."

"That wasn't exactly something I had to worry about before…"

"Well, whatever you may think of the matter, the fact remains that you are with child, my lord. And until nature has run its course, one way or another, you are going to be stuck in a woman's body. Now, unless you have any other questions, I have a Daedric realm to keep in order until you are ready to begin your duties."

"That was all…" Remy replied, his head spinning in an effort to comprehend all he'd just been told. He watched as Haskill faded from sight, then made his way back through the portal and into Tamriel where, up until then, his life had made a lot more sense.

Under any other circumstances, he'd have just found himself some mildly poisonous herbs to chew on and been done with it. However, seeing as what he had with Lucien seemed to have developed into something more than just occasional casual sex, he felt as though he should at least tell the Imperial what his plans were first. Even then, he wasn't entirely opposed to the thought of having a child. If Lucien wasn't put off by the idea, anyway. He was in a more financially stable situation than he'd ever been, and being a parent would at least give him something to do.

Still, he didn't want to risk driving Lucien away by acting as though he wanted more from the man than he was willing to give. Though he supposed he could also end up driving the Imperial away by making such an important decision without consulting him first. He sighed, at a total loss as to what he was going to do. In the end, he decided he'd just wait to make up his mind until he saw Lucien again. Hopefully he'd have reached some kind of breakthrough by then, and if not, then he hoped that seeing the man again would help clear things up.

At that moment, however, his main concern was getting to Leafrot cave and killing the necromancer there before he managed to turn himself into a lich. Pushing all other thoughts aside, Remy swam back to the Niben Bay's shore and tried to mentally prepare himself for anything he might find shambling about Leafrot Cave.


	22. Chapter 22

Once he made it back to Bravil, with the exception of Shadowmere attempting to eat his hair again, Remy made it to Leafrot Cave without incident. Once there, he left the horse out of sight behind a clump of trees, opened the cave's battered wooden door and quietly slipped inside. He crept down the dark tunnel it led to as quickly as he could without making enough noise to alert anything that might have been lurking nearby to his presence, coming to a stop when he reached a small, dimly lit room. If the cluttered desk and shelves of assorted magic-related items were anything to go by, it probably served as the necromancer, Celedaen's, workspace.

He was about to enter the chamber and have a look around when he noticed the transparent, cloaked figure standing in a corner. It seemed to be unaware of his presence, at least for the time being. Hoping to keep things that way until he at least weakened the creature, the Dunmer carefully readied his bow and fitted one of his worryingly few silver arrows to the string. He had come prepared for skeletons and zombies, not ethereal undead. If the rest of the cave was inhabited by ghosts and whatever the cloaked creature was, he was going to be in a tight spot.

He considered going back to Bravil to reequip himself, but ultimately decided against it. If Celedaen was truly on the verge of becoming a lich, then there was no time to spare. He would just have to trust his luck and ability to remain unseen if his arrows ran out.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he drew the arrow back, took aim, and let it fly. The cloaked creature shrieked as it slowly tore its way through its transparent body and fell to the floor, whirling around to see what had caused it such pain.

Before Remy could prepare for his next shot, the creature let out a screech that seemed to freeze the blood in his veins. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to do anything more than watch in horror as it glided across the chamber, as though it knew exactly where he was hidden in the shadows of the doorway.

Just as it drew close enough to slash at him with its long, wickedly curved claws the Dunmer regained his ability to move, and rolled out of its range just in time to avoid having his throat sliced open. He dashed past it into the chamber, looking around for something, anything, he could use to fight it off. His elven dagger would be useless against an ethereal creature, and the flare spell he knew wouldn't do anything but mildly inconvenience it.

As the creature advanced on him, he saw his chance of victory glinting in the torchlight. A silver dagger lay on the stone shelf beside him, and was in his hand a heartbeat later. He twisted around and stabbed it through the creature's chest, crying out in pain as it clawed desperately at his arm in an effort to remove the blade from its body.

Remy dragged the dagger through the creature's body, eventually ripping it free through its right side. The creature let out one last shriek before crumpling into a pile of tattered rags and ectoplasm. Remy staggered past it to Celedaen's desk, shuffling through its contents in search of something he could use to slow the blood flowing out of the gashes in his arm. He located some relatively clean strips of cloth and sat down to tend his wounds.

The gashes weren't very deep, but there were a lot of them, and he used most of the cloth sopping up his blood. Once his arm was (mostly) blue again, he rubbed enough healing potions on it to close the tears in his skin and wrapped the last of the cloth strips around his arm just in case they opened again. After that, he returned to the desk in search of anything that would help him defeat the Necromancer without being forced into melee combat again. After several minutes of sorting through the papers and tomes he'd displaced in his search for bandages, he located a promising book titled the Path of Transcendance. A quick glance at its first page revealed that it was Celedaen's journal, and its last entry revealed that simply stealing the Sands of Resolve, an hourglass that he carried with him and was slowly transferring his soul into. If his writings were to be believed, removing the Sands of Resolve from his person while he had yet to fully transform himself into a lich would kill him instantly, eliminating the need for any potentially messy and dangerous confrontations.

A quick look around the chamber revealed another passage leading deeper into the cave, which Remy lost no time in finding his way down and through the door at the end of it. Fortunately for him, the rest of the cave was inhabited by zombies and skeletons that he had little difficulty sneaking past. It seemed that the Necromancer had trusted the cloaked creature to dispose of any unwelcome guests.

The Dunmer found Celedaen seated in a small room, his eyes closed in what Remy assumed was some sort of ritual to aid his transformation. It was simple enough to approach him and remove the Sands of Resolve from a pocket in his robes and, just as the journal had stated, the Necromancer fell over, dead, once the hourglass was in Remy's hands. After smashing the hourglass, just to be sure no trace of Celedaen remained, Remy quietly crept back the way he had come and exited the cave.

As it was getting late, he decided to stay the night in Bravil before making his way to Chorrol the next day. He applied more healing potions and a fresh layer of bandages to his arm once he was in the room he rented for the night, and by the next morning the gashes he'd received were nothing more than a series of faint, pinkish white lines. He purchased a few apples from the innkeeper for his breakfast, offering one to Shadowmere in an effort to keep her away from his hair when he reached the stables. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, happily accepting the fruit from him and even allowing him to get himself comfortably seated on her back before charging off toward Chorrol.

Even with Shadowmere's speed, the ride to Chorrol took a few hours which, now that he no longer had a contract to think about, left Remy with plenty of time to consider everything else going on in his life, and the new life he still had to decide what to do with. In the end, he decided that he'd go about his life as though nothing were different until the next time he saw Lucien and, if it managed to survive that long, he'd tell the Imperial what had happened and hope for the best. Even if Lucien wanted nothing to do with either of them, he wasn't going to deny anything that managed to survive being carried in him through half the things he put himself through a chance at life. It just wouldn't be fair otherwise.

The dead drop orders hidden among the roots of Chorrol's Great Oak tree contained instructions to track down the five members of the Draconis family, as well as five hundred septims for killing Celedaen. Assassinations may not have been easy work, but at least they paid well. Everything progressed normally enough until he reached Applewatch, the small farm that was home to Perennia Draconis.

He had assumed that she wasn't a young woman, given that she had four grown children, but he hadn't expected her to be as old as she was. As he approached the yard where she was working she stood up and, much to Remy's dismay, would have looked exactly like the woman who'd raised him if she'd been just a bit shorter. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Oh! Hello, there. I'm sorry, you startled me. My nerves get rattled rather easily these days, I'm afraid. Living alone will do that to you. Now, is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

"Um, yes… I'm looking for your children," Remy replied, immediately realizing how strange his response must have sounded and hoping that the woman assumed there was an innocent explanation for it.

"My children? Whatever for? Oh! Oh, dear, excuse an old woman's stupidity! You're here to pick up my gift list! Using your gift service was the smartest thing I've ever done. My children are spread across Cyrodiil, and it's so hard to shop for them all! So, here's the list of all my precious little ones, though I dare say they're not so little anymore! Ha ha ha ha ha! They grow up so fast, I swear! You'll notice that the list gives each child's location and some suggestions for gifts. Oh, and here's the gold I'm supposed to give you. Now please go. Those children are so dear to me, and I'd really like you to get them something special. Thanks again!" Perennia said, thrusting a slip of paper and a small bag of gold into his hands and returning to her yard work.

Remy sighed, pushed all thoughts of the woman who may as well have been his mother and what she would have thought if she could see him now to the back of his mind, and drew his dagger and cut the woman's throat in one clean motion. He turned and walked back to where he had left Shadowmere as she fell to the ground, unable to bring himself to look at her soon-to-be lifeless body. He'd had enough old memories dredged up for one day, and he wasn't about to relive the morning he'd found his adoptive parents dead in their bed if he could help it.

As he read over the gift list, he felt tears forming in his eyes at the effort and care, even if it seemed to be somewhat misguided in some cases, Perennia had put into suggesting gifts for her children. Who would have wanted such a sweet old woman dead, he didn't know, but he hoped there was a damn good reason for it.

His first stop was Muck Valley Cavern, where Sibylla Draconis lived. The inside was filled with wild animals, just as the gift list had stated, as well as a nearly-naked woman he assumed was Sibylla. Her lack of armor and protective clothing made it simple enough to pick her off with an arrow, and he slipped back outside before any of her animal companions could think to investigate where the arrow had come from.

Next, he traveled to the Imperial City, where Matthias Draconis lived. He proved to be considerably more difficult to eliminate. After spending more than a week trying to learn the man's schedule, Remy decided to simply break into his house and hope he could kill the man without making enough noise to awaken his housemate. Once he felt it was late enough for them both to be sound asleep, he picked the lock on the front door, quietly walked around where Matthias' housemate was sleeping on the stone floor, and climbed the stairs to what he hoped was the bedroom. His guess was correct, and he managed to slice the man's throat open without making any noise that would have been loud enough to wake the man downstairs.

The Dunmer then left the house as quietly as he had entered it and began his journey to the Drunken Dragon Inn, where Andreas Draconis resided. He killed the man in much the same manner as his brother, and moved on to the last surviving member of the Draconis family, Caelia.

She proved to be even more difficult to find alone and unaware than Matthias was. Remy found himself spending yet another week trying to find any opening in her schedule, only to find that there was no good time for him to strike. She was never out of earshot of at least one other person during the day, and at night she slept in the City Watch Barracks, which had been even better secured since his assassination of Adamus Phillida.

As he was lying awake in the room he'd rented at the Five Claws Lodge, trying to decide whether killing any potential witnesses was worth getting the contract done and getting on with his life, he remembered the poison apple he had tucked away in his pack. When he dug it out, it looked as fresh as it had almost three weeks earlier, though he supposed that that was probably a side effect of whatever poison Lucien had added to it. After a few hours of sleep, he made his way to the Three Sisters Inn where Caelia spent most of her day, and placed it on the table she usually sat next to before hiding in one of the empty rooms close by just before she arrived.

A few hours later, he heard a choking sound followed by the loud thump of plate armor hitting the wooden floor, and left his hiding spot to find Caelia dead on the floor. He left the inn before anyone could realize what had happened and question his presence there, walked to the stables, and mounted Shadowmere for the ride to Skingrad, where his next dead drop orders were supposed to be hidden.

There was a bag of septims and a set of dead drop orders instructing him to assassinate a Khajiit living in Bruma inside the castle well, just as his previous orders had said. What really caught his attention, however, was a small slip of paper carefully tucked into a small crack in the well's stones. It was well hidden, and he might have missed it entirely if the wind hadn't picked up and caused it to rustle as it almost flew free of the rock it was wedged in. All that was written on it was 'West Weald Inn, second floor, second room on the left', but it was enough to fill with him with both excitement and dread. His body had yet to become any more male than it was the last time he'd seen Lucien, so it looked like he had an important conversation to have.

He placed the reward for the Draconis contract into his pack and made his way to the inn, and found the second door on the left of its second floor unlocked. He slipped inside, and found Lucien seated at a writing desk, waiting for him.

"I see you found my note," the Imperial said, crossing the room and firmly shutting and locking the door. "It took you long enough."

"I'm not the one who did everything but cast an invisibility spell on it to keep it hidden," Remy replied. "Why couldn't you have just put it with your orders?"

"Because," the Imperial purred, pressing his body against the Dunmer's, "You wouldn't have had to work for your 'bonus', otherwise."

Remy sighed, wishing he could just give himself over to the man like he usually did, but he wasn't about to back out of his end of the bargain he'd made with his irritatingly persistent unborn child. "Much as I'd like to claim that bonus, there's something we need to talk about."

"If you're referring to your contract, then I'm afraid I've told you all I know in your orders. You'll have to learn the rest on your own."

"No, the contract seems simple enough. An unarmed Khajiit can't be that bad compared to the Necromancer you sent me after."

"Khajiit?" Lucien asked, looking genuinely confused. "You are supposed to be tracking down a Breton."

"No, you said I'm supposed to kill a Khajiit. It's right here in the orders you left," Remy replied, giving the roll of paper to the Imperial.

Lucien quickly scanned the document, his face growing visibly paler and twisting into a grimace that made the Dunmer's blood run cold. "We need to go to Bruma. Now."


	23. Chapter 23

"What's going on?" Remy asked, struggling to match Lucien's long strides as he followed him out of the inn and toward the city stables.

"Someone has compromised your dead drop orders and, had they had their way, would have pitted you against one of the Speakers of the Black Hand," Lucien replied, grabbing his wrist and half-dragging him down the street in an effort to move faster, "Whether it was an attempt on your life or his, I do not know, but J'Ghasta must be informed immediately."

"Wouldn't it be faster for you to go alone, then?" the Dunmer had adjusted his pace to a light run in an effort to remain at the Imperial's side. Lucien wasn't significantly taller than he was, but the few inches between them may as well have been miles with the difference in walking speed they caused. "Even if we're both on Shadowmere, carrying two people is going to slow her down."

"Perhaps, but until the traitor has been caught no one is safe alone. I did not convince the Black Hand to spare your life for you to lose it because I left you behind to face an enemy you are no match for."

"Thanks, I guess," Remy said as they passed through the city gates. He wasn't thrilled by the Imperial's lack of faith in his abilities, but it was understandable given the circumstances. Anything that had Lucien this visibly distressed wasn't to be taken lightly, and he had to admit that he did feel safer in the man's company.

"Did you see anything at all out of the ordinary when you found those orders? Anything at all?"

"No."

"And I suppose you exercised no caution in reading my note or walking to the inn, either…"

"Not really… Why does that matter, though?"

"Because if the traitor was watching, they now know that something in their plans may well have gone amiss, and will have had plenty of time to leave the city and try to reach Bruma before we do."

"Oh, gods…"

Lucien sighed, "At the very least we caught this early enough to salvage the situation. Had you simply run off on that 'contract', there's no telling how much of our family's blood may have been spilled."

"If J'Ghasta is anything like you, probably just mine…" Remy replied, shuddering at the thought as they reached the stables. "How exactly will we be getting ourselves to Bruma, anyway?"

"Even with two riders, Shadowmere will be our fastest option," said the Imperial, mounting his former steed with ease and somehow managing to keep her still until his Silencer climbed up behind him. "I suggest you hold on tightly."

"While we're on the subject, I think there may be something seriously wrong with her," Remy said, wrapping his arms tightly around the Imperial as Shadowmere took off at a pace far faster than she had ever reached with him alone.

"What do you mean?"

"She tries to eat my hair."

Lucien was silent for a moment, seeming to be just as puzzled by the mare's behavior as Remy, then chuckled lightly as he replied, "She probably mistook you for a milk thistle. Your hair is a good match for one of their blossoms, and she always has had a fondness for them. Sithis knows you're stuck to me like one at the moment…"

"Well, I guess there are worse things to be compared to," the Dunmer replied, grateful for the unexpected moment of levity, "Though you've never seemed to mind me holding on to you so tightly before now…"

"I don't recall saying it bothered me."

"Good. Because I'm not letting go you slow the damn horse down." Falling off even the slowest-moving horse was an unpleasant experience; he had no intention of finding out what falling off anything moving at Shadowmere's speed felt like. And, considering how important it was to make it to Bruma as quickly as possible, he didn't want to delay them by forcing Lucien to turn around and collect him.

The rest of their ride to Bruma passed without further conversation. Once they were through the gates and out of sight of the guards, both gave up on trying to appear calm and inconspicuous and took off at a run for J'Ghasta's home. When they reached the house, Lucien knocked at the door several times, then impatiently paced back and forth on the porch while he waited for the Khajiit to allow them inside. After several agonizing minutes of waiting the Imperial sighed, ordered Remy to stand watch in case any guards decided to patrol the area, and knelt down to pick the lock. After a few moments of silence, the Dunmer heard a light click, and turned around to see the door wide open.

Lucien shut the door behind them as soon as they were both inside the house. A quick inspection made it abundantly clear why no one had answered the door; only a few feet away from them, the mutilated corpse of what had once been a Khajiit was sprawled out on the wooden floor. J'Ghasta's torso had been flayed open, and deep lacerations covered his face and arms. One of his ears had been all but torn off, and a jagged, deep gash covered most of his neck.

"No!" the Imperial cried, sinking to the floor and resting his head in his hands. "We are too late…"

Remy sat beside him, placing a hand on the man's shoulder in an attempt to offer some form of comfort. His voice shaky from the shock of seeing J'Ghasta's remains in such a state, he said, "It's not your fault… There's nothing we could have done."

Lucien sighed, regained his composure. "He is now at the side of our Dread Father. Search the house. The traitor must have left something behind."

After thoroughly examining every inch of the house and the training room beneath it, however, it was clear that neither the traitor nor any of their possessions remained. Several splatters of blood adorned the walls and floor, but it was impossible to tell whether they had belonged to J'Ghasta or the traitor. The Khajiit did have blood on his claws, but not enough to make it seem likely that he had caused any serious injury to his assailant, and certainly nothing that a few healing potions couldn't erase.

Exhausted by the day's events and a lack of sleep, Remy flopped down on a crate. "What happens now?"

"We get some rest, and then travel to Bravil. A meeting of the Black Hand is scheduled to take place there tomorrow, as soon as all its living members arrive, and we can inform the others of what has happened here."

"It's probably tonight by now, isn't it?" the Dunmer asked, "It's got to be past midnight..."

"All the more reason to find ourselves a room," Lucien replied, leading the Dunmer out of the house and into to streets of Bruma. "Unless I am mistaken, you are still owed that bonus of yours, are you not?"

"Yes, I… Damn it," Remy grumbled. Upon noticing the puzzled look the Imperial was giving him, he hastily clarified, "I still need to talk to you about something first…"

"I'm listening," Lucien said as they started their ascent up the flight of stairs that would take them to the level of the city containing the Jerall View Inn. "I assure you, nothing you can say could make this night any worse."

"Well, um, it's a funny story, really… You're not going to believe this, but-Well, that's new," Remy stopped in the middle of the street, staring at a statue standing beside the city's north gate. Before Lucien could attempt to bring his focus back to the task at hand, he had started walking towards it, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be of. "It almost looks like…"

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the statue's base to find a giant, surprisingly good stone likeness of him wearing his Arena armor and holding a lit torch aloft. A small plaque on the statue's base gave a short, highly embellished account of how he had single-handedly defended Bruma from a Daedric invasion. "Oh gods, no…"

"It seems you've become quite the celebrity, Champion…" Lucien purred, amused at the dismayed expression that had come over the Dunmer's face.

"Don't remind me…" Remy groaned. "If they were going to build a statue of me, the least they could have done is get the story right."

Lucien chuckled. "After everything that's happened, this is what you get upset over. You certainly have your priorities in order, my Silencer…"

"I'm pregnant. I'm allowed."

"…What?"

"Well, it turns out that I turned myself into a woman because I'm pregnant with your child… I'm not sure why it happened, but there it is."

"This is what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Remy just nodded.

"What do you intend to do about it?" Lucien asked, his tone unreadable.

"I don't know," Remy replied. "I'm not opposed to keeping it, if you're willing to help me care for it. Though if you're not interested I'm not opposed to getting rid of it, either."

Lucien was silent for a moment, considering his options. He had always been too focused on his career as an assassin to keep a lover for very long, and he'd accepted the fact that he would not be continuing his bloodline years ago. However, now that the possibility of having a child was sitting before him, he couldn't deny that it was at least worth thinking about. His Silencer was among the better lovers he had had, both in and out of the bedroom and, even with his somewhat irritating qualities, Lucien wasn't opposed to the idea of raising a child with him. At the very least, it would probably stop the Dunmer from disappearing for weeks on end again. And, with both of its parents in the Dark Brotherhood, their child would, with any luck, have a promising career as an assassin ahead of it.

"I suppose we're going to be parents, then," the Imperial said.

"Really?" Remy asked, surprised at how well things had gone. He'd been expecting Lucien to demand that he raise the child alone or dispose of it, at best.

"Yes. How far along are you?"

"About a month. That's how long I've been stuck like this, right?"

"Good. I expect you to fulfill your duties as my Silencer until you are physically unable to do so; being with child is not an excuse for slacking off."

"That's fine by me. I'd get bored just sitting around, anyway."

"Excellent."

Remy sighed, "Does everything always have to be about business with you?"

"Of course not, my dear Silencer…" Lucien replied, pulling the Dunmer in for a bruising kiss. "I assure you, our relationship outside of your contracts is entirely pleasure-related."

"Would it kill you to use my name, then? I do have one, you know."

"If that is what you desire, Remy," the Imperial purred, sending a pleasant shiver down the Dunmer's spine, "Shall we get ourselves a room now?"

"Yes."

The pair lost no time in walking the rest of the way to the Jerall View Inn and renting themselves a room. Once the door was securely shut and locked behind them, both were in a state of partial undress in seconds and tangled together in ecstasy in the bed shortly afterward. Later, as they lay curled together in a state of mutual satisfaction, Remy had a sudden realization.

"Lucien?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't this the room I was staying in when you recruited me?"

The Imperial lazily glanced around the room before replying, "That it is. Why, are you planning on panicking and tackling me to the floor again?"

"No. If you wanted to kill me I'm fairly sure you would have done it by now."

"Good."

After a couple hours of lying wide awake, it became clear that neither of them was going to be falling asleep any time soon. Finally, as the outside world grew light again and the first of the sun's rays began to shine in through the room's window, they got out of bed, cleaned themselves at the washbasin, and prepared for the journey to Bravil. Both were all but silent throughout the long ride, and the walk from Bravil's stables to what appeared to be an ordinary house near the statue of the Lucky Old Lady.

A Bosmer answered the door and, upon seeing Lucien, he smiled and waved them inside, saying, "Welcome, Speaker. And your new Silencer, I presume? Now we just need to wait for J'Ghasta, and we can start our meeting."

Once inside, Remy glanced around the room. Seated around a small table or leaning against the walls were several people, all wearing black robes or shrouded armor. Some looked in his direction with mild interest for a moment or two, but most simply ignored him altogether in favor of conversing with each other. One, however, immediately stood out from the others. A Breton standing in a corner seemed fixated upon him from the moment he'd walked through the door, and his intense stare soon become rather unnerving.

"I'm afraid J'Ghasta will not be attending our meeting today," Lucien said, his voice just loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the room. "He lies dead in his home, murdered by the traitor my Sanctuary was wrongfully Purified in an effort to eliminate."

A wave of shocked murmuring rippled across the room, and its other occupants all seemed to sit up a bit straighter and look more intently at the people around them.

"That is a serious accusation, Lucien," the Bosmer said, "I suppose you have enough evidence to confirm your suspicions?"

"Of course, Listener. I have been communicating with my Silencer through dead drops, and yesterday he came to me with a set of orders that had been tampered with. Instead of the latest victim I assigned him, the orders he found told him to travel to Bruma and murder J'Ghasta. When he made me aware of this treachery, we made our way to Bruma as quickly as we were able, but were too late to warn J'Ghasta of the peril he was in. We found him dead in his house, with no trace left of his killer."

"This is troubling news indeed," said the Listener. "Arquen, as J'Ghasta's Silencer it is your duty to assume his place as Speaker of the Bruma Sanctuary."

"Yes, Listener," an Altmer leaning against the wall across the room from where Remy was standing replied.

"What did you think was going to happen if you refused to give your Silencer his orders in person?" asked a Dunmer seated at the table, glaring daggers at Lucien. "I told you those theatrics of yours were going to get someone killed one day, and here we are."

"And I suppose you roasting anyone who irritates you alive is never going to cause trouble for us, Uvani?" Lucien replied.

"That is enough out of both of you," the Listener snapped. "The traitor in our midst has caused quite enough chaos as it is; I will not have it increased by your petty squabbling. As we all know that the traitor was not, in fact, killed in the Cheydinhal Purification as we had hoped, we must all be on our guard. Speakers, keep your Silencers close, and continue to monitor the assassins in your Sanctuary for any suspicious behavior. Should any of you uncover information on who the traitor may be, I want it brought to me immediately."

"Yes, Listener," said a chorus of voices from around the room.

"Excellent. Now then, today's meeting was originally called for a much happier occasion. As you are now aware, Speaker Lachance has chosen a new Silencer, and it is time he was properly introduced to us. Why don't you tell us your name, Silencer?"

"I'm Remy," Remy said.

"Good. I am Ungolim, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood," said the Bosmer.

"My name is Shaleez. I am Ungolim's Silencer," rasped an Argonian leaning against the wall closest to the Listener.

"Belisarius Arius, Speaker," said an Imperial.

"Mathieu Bellamont, Silencer to Belisarius Arius," said the Breton who'd been staring at him the whole time. Remy doubted he'd be forgetting that name any time soon…

"I am Alval Uvani," said the sour-looking Dunmer who had criticized Lucien earlier, "Speaker."

"I'm Banus Alor, Speaker Uvani's Silencer," said a much less hostile Dunmer standing behind Uvani's chair.

"And I am Arquen, Silencer… no, Speaker. I have yet to choose a Silencer," said the Altmer who had until recently been J'Ghasta's Silencer.

"Welcome to the Black Hand, Remy. I hope that soon you will be able to see us under happier circumstances," Ungolim said, turning his attention back to the rest of the room. "Now then, while there are matters that need to be discussed, in light of recent events I feel that they will be best left to our next meeting. You are all dismissed; go now and ensure that J'Ghasta's death was not in vain by seeing to the protection of your respective branches of our family. May Sithis be with you all."

"Now what?" Remy asked as he followed Lucien out of the house and back to the stables.

"Now, we wait and hope that the traitor is stopped before any more of our brothers and sisters are killed."

"What about contracts?"

"Contracts are divided among the Sanctuaries during these meetings; it seems that the Listener has decided against assigning any new ones now that the traitor has shown that they are capable of tampering with the Black Hand's orders."

"This is bad, then, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Lucien sighed, "And I fear it will only grow worse before the end."


	24. Chapter 24

Lucien was silent as he led Remy out of the city and to the stables for yet another long, uncomfortable ride to Fort Farragut after they'd spent the night at Silverhome on the Water, the nicer of Bravil's two inns. The Imperial had been in a sullen mood since they left Ungolim's house and, while he would normally have just avoided the man until he had another contract for him, that wasn't an option for Remy while he and Lucien were still sharing a horse.

So, the Dunmer spent the next few hours trying to have as little contact with his Speaker as possible without falling off Shadowmere in the process. He breathed a sigh of relief when they reached Fort Farragut and he was finally able to let go of Lucien and move freely again.

"While you are free to do as you please, I would advise you to remain here with me until some progress has been made in uncovering the traitor's identity," Lucien said.

"I'll stay here for as long as you're willing to keep me," Remy replied, losing no time in following the Imperial through the trapdoor in a hollowed-out tree that was the fort's secret entrance. While the Imperial's mood had yet to improve, the traitor was still very much alive and active, and he wasn't about to go wandering off alone if he could help it. He'd take a grumpy Lucien over someone who'd killed a Speaker and had the rest of the Black Hand on edge any day. Neither prospect was a pleasant one, but the former seemed less likely to result in his death than the latter.

What the Dunmer hadn't considered, however, was how boring his stay at the fort was going to be. After what couldn't have been more than a couple of hours, he had completely exhausted what little he had in the way of entertainment options. Granted, said entertainment options consisted of doodling on a few blank scraps of paper he'd had in his pack, folding said paper up as small as he could, and then tearing it into tiny pieces until Lucien had told him to stop making a mess, but at least it had been something to do. He'd also attempted to help the Imperial with some poisons he was making, but had been banished from the man's workspace after mixing a few ingredients together too quickly and causing a minor explosion. He didn't think he'd be trying his hand at alchemy again anytime soon.

The chamber that Lucien called home was quite spacious, but had to have been one of the most sparsely furnished living spaces Remy had ever seen. Aside from a bed, bookshelf, and desk, its only other contents were some barrels, crates, chests, and a stone… thing. Whether it was a coffin or bathtub (or something else entirely, for that matter), the Dunmer did not know.

It was made of a different type of stone than the rest of the chamber, so obviously it had originated someone else, which seemed to support his bathtub theory. However, the skeleton and human heart it contained would have made much more sense resting in a coffin than a bathtub. What Lucien would have wanted a coffin in his home for, however, was entirely beyond Remy's comprehension. As was how he got the thing in there in the first place. He found himself imagining the Speaker singlehandedly lifting the container and carrying it through Fort Farragut's halls, and couldn't stop himself from laughing a bit at the thought.

"Is something funny, Silencer?" the Imperial asked, giving the Dunmer an irritated look from where he sat at his desk, trying to get some poisons made. It was a delicate process at the best of times, and his Silencer's constant fidgeting was making it all but impossible.

"Not really…" Remy replied. Then, since he figured he may as well get it out of his system while the Imperial was paying attention to him, he pointed to the stone container and asked, "Is that supposed to be a coffin or a bathtub?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not. Just curious."

Lucien sighed, returning to his work and leaving Remy to his own devices once again. The Dunmer sat on the bed, absently picking at a corner of its worn blanket, and tried to make sense of why Lucien hadn't arranged for something nicer to be brought to the fort. What he had was only large enough for one person to sleep in comfortably, and it certainly looked like it had seen better days. The wooden frame was chipped in several places, the blanket was covered in stains (though that was quite possibly caused by him bleeding on it during his previous visits to the fort, and not any of the Imperial's own actions), and the mattress was lumpy. It wasn't at all a match for his Speaker's arrogant demeanor, and he found it rather confusing. He just hoped that the nights weren't going to be too warm, or he wouldn't be getting any sleep due to the excessive heat that sleeping so close to the Imperial would cause.

He glanced over at the desk and found Lucien still intently focused on his alchemy. The barrel next to the desk, however, gave him an idea. He crossed the chamber, sat down next to the barrel, and tried to pry its lid off. It was attached to the barrel by a sturdy lock, however, and unless he got that open it wasn't going anywhere. With nothing better to do, he removed a lockpick from its hiding place in his boot, and got to work.

"If you are planning to steal my possessions, the least you could do is try and pick the locks that I'm not sitting next to," Lucien said, directing another irritated look at the Dunmer.

"I don't want what's in the barrel. Just the lid," Remy replied, not looking up from his lock picking.

"And what is wrong with the lids of the other barrels?"

"They're all broken or full of holes."

"Would you like to explain why you require the use of that particular lid?"

"Target practice," Remy said, letting out a small cheer as he got the last tumbler into place and was able to remove the lock from the barrel's lid. "My archery could use a bit of work…"

"If you're such a poor shot, I would prefer it if you practiced somewhere where you won't shoot me by mistake."

"I'm not bad at it. Just inconsistent. And I don't see why you needed to put that kind of a lock on a barrel of apples."

"The barrel was locked because it is where I store my poisoned apples. They are worth hundreds of septims to the right buyer, and keeping them locked up keeps them both secure and away from my food supply," Lucien sighed, returning to his work. A series of scratching noises followed by loud thumps kept him informed of his Silencer's progress in attempting to mount his target on the wall.

After listening to several failed attempts, the Imperial left his desk, removed the torch farthest from his workspace from its sconce on the wall, and firmly wedged the lid of his apple barrel in its place. Remy may have been more of an annoyance than anything else at the moment, but that didn't change the fact that he was the last remaining member of his Sanctuary, as well as the only person he was certain he could trust until the traitor's identity was revealed.

And, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he found a small sense of comfort in the fact that, even with his life thrown dramatically out of order due to the traitor's actions and the wrongful Purification of his Sanctuary, Remy was still Remy. Bizarre behavior and all. He just hoped that their child wouldn't take after its mother in that area.

The makeshift archery target kept Remy amused and relatively quiet until he decided it was late enough for him to turn in for the night. He stripped off his armor in favor of a loose-fitting shirt and climbed into the bed, hoping that Lucien would join him before too long. Contrary to his expectations, the fort's temperature was rather cold, and the thin blanket he'd wrapped around himself did little to warm him up. He was about to get up and go in search of either something warmer to wear or another blanket when he felt the bed shift behind him and a warm arm wrapped around him and drew him up against an equally warm body, most likely in an attempt to keep both he and Lucien from rolling off their rather limited space on the bed and onto the floor. The Dunmer's body soon returned to a much more comfortable temperature, and sleep overtook him moments later.

When he awoke the next morning, the Imperial was gone. Curious as to where he'd gone and when he planned to return, Remy got out of bed and began searching the chamber for anything the man might have left for him. And possibly some breakfast. Hopefully both.

He hadn't made it more than a few steps away from the bed before an invisible force shoved him none-too-gently against a pillar. Assuming it was Lucien, he smiled and reached forward to run his fingers through the Imperial's hair. It was then that he realized something was horribly, horribly wrong. He was well aware of how tall Lucien was, but whoever had him pinned against the wall's head was definitely lower than the Imperial's would have been. The hair was also all wrong; however it looked, it wasn't a match for Lucien's long, tightly pulled-back ponytail.

One of the hands pushing him against the stone column let go, and he managed to wrench himself free of his captor's grip just before some kind of weapon loudly collided with the pillar in around the same place his chest had been. The spell that had kept his attacker invisible wore off as they whirled around and ran at him, a wicked-looking blade clenched tightly in their hand.

Remy barely avoided getting his throat cut as he raced across the chamber to where he'd left his dagger sitting on a crate. He'd kept it near him every night since he'd been caught without it when Lucien recruited him, but hadn't felt the need to worry about his safety with Lucien so close to him.

His attacker was moving too quickly and had too much of his face obscured by his hood for Remy to determine anything but the fact that he was male, and the Dunmer wasn't about to risk moving within range of his blade to get a better look. There was no doubt in his mind that he was fighting against the traitor, and that was more than enough of an identity for him.

He somehow managed to reach his dagger before his attacker overtook him, and raised it just in time to block a slash that would have sliced his arm wide open. The force of the impact almost knocked the dagger out of his hand, but he somehow kept from dropping it and rammed his knee into his attacker's gut, taking advantage of the opportunity it gave him to put some distance between them. He doubted he'd last very long in a fight against someone who'd killed a Speaker, and he needed a way out.

Remy pulled the lever that opened the gate to the rest of the fort as he passed it, and paused when he reached the rope ladder that led out of Fort Farragut and into the forest surrounding it. Leaving through the trapdoor would be his fastest way out, but he wasn't sure if he could make it all the way up without the traitor catching up to him or getting within knife-throwing range. If he ran into the rest of the fort, he knew he'd never be able to make it past the Dark Guardians without the traitor catching him, but could probably find a good place to hide. In the end, the choice was taken from him when his attacker got too close for him to be able to climb the ladder safely, and he took off into the dark, misty halls of Fort Farragut.

The traitor hadn't expected him to go that way, which gave him the extra time he needed to find a promising pile of crates in a deserted chamber and hide himself in a small gap between two of the larger ones and the wall. He clutched his dagger tightly as he heard the footsteps and muttered curses of his attacker in the chamber, only easing his hold on it when everything was silent once more. The shirt he had on did little to protect him from the damp, cold air of the fort's halls, but he had no intention of leaving his hiding spot until he was sure it was safe to do so.

\- Meanwhile… -

After a brief trip into Cheydinhal to replenish his stores of alchemy reagents and food, Lucien returned to Fort Farragut. He opened the trapdoor to his chamber slowly and quietly so that the noise didn't startle his Silencer and quickly climbed down the ladder, gently setting the satchel of items he'd purchased down once his feet were on solid ground once again. It was then that he noticed something was amiss.

His Silencer was not on his bed, or anywhere in the room for that matter, and the gate that led to the rest of the fort had been opened. A closer inspection of the chamber revealed that the Dunmer's armor remained, but his dagger was also gone. Something, or someone had caused his Silencer to flee his chamber in a hurry. And if recent events were anything to go by, he had a bad feeling about who that someone might have been.

The Imperial cast a Chameleon spell over himself as he ventured out into the maze of hallways that made up the uninhabited majority of Fort Farragut, hoping to take whoever had invaded his home by surprise if their paths crossed. He was more concerned about his Silencer, however, and hoped that he would find a living, breathing Dunmer and not a mutilated corpse. He'd lost far too many family members to the traitor already.

His fears were assuaged when his Chameleon spell wore off as he passed a pile of crates, and he was tackled to the floor before he could recast it. He struggled to work his shortsword free of its sheath until he got a good look at exactly who was sitting on him. "I thought you said you weren't planning on tackling me to the floor again…"

"I wasn't. I thought you were the traitor," Remy said, shifting himself from Lucien's torso to his legs so the Imperial could sit up and then clinging to him as though his life depended on it.

"What happened?" Lucien asked, stroking the Dunmer's hair. Normally he would never have tolerated such behavior from an assassin under his command, regardless of whether or not they were his lover, but given the circumstances it only seemed fair to make an exception.

His Silencer wouldn't have ended up in such a state had he not left him alone, and even he was a bit shaken by the knowledge of just how close he'd come to losing the elf. His attachment to Remy had definitely developed into something more than lust and an appreciation for the contracts the Dunmer had carried out, and he'd never have forgiven himself if the satchel of alchemy reagents in his chamber had cost Remy his life.

"I woke up and you weren't there, so I went to see if you left a note saying when you'd be back, and someone shoved me into a pillar. I thought it was you at first, but he didn't feel right, and then he tried to kill me. I grabbed my dagger and ran out here, then hid behind those crates until you came in," Remy replied, pressing himself more firmly against the Imperial.

He had to admit, being held by Lucien felt good, and he wasn't about to let a moment of it go to waste. Uncertain as he was about having a child with the man, he knew that at the very least he would enjoy the excuse it gave them to spend more time together. Granted, he was fairly sure that part of the attachment he felt to Lucien was simply a result of the Imperial being the only living person he was at all close to, but even if Martin and his former guildmates in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary were still alive he doubted he'd want to be around Lucien any less. Having a lover for more than one night was nice, if still a bit unusual.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"No. I'm sorry; I couldn't get a good look at him…"

Lucien sighed, getting on his feet again and dragging the Dunmer up with him. "It's alright. You managed to keep your life, which is impressive in itself," he said, leading Remy back into the chamber of the fort he called home. "Fort Farragut is no longer safe. We will need another place to stay until the traitor has been stopped."

"I've got a house in the Imperial City we could use. Well, it's more of a shed, really, but it's cozy enough. Even if the traitor breaks in, there's nowhere he could hide."

"It will have to do. We're leaving as soon as you've gathered your belongings and put some pants on."


	25. Chapter 25

"Please tell me this is some kind of joke…" Lucien said as he took in the sight of the dimly lit hovel his Silencer had led him to. The Dunmer's 'house' consisted of one room, most of which was occupied by a collection of mismatched furniture and piles of assorted items lying about. A bloodstain on the doormat seemed to imply that his Silencer might have been carrying out a few contracts of his own, and he was pleasantly surprised at the possibility of Remy having a dark side. Now if only he could find a way to convince the Dunmer to let it out more often…

"Nope. This is it; home sweet home," Remy replied, tossing his pack onto one of the smaller piles of things he'd collected. He was fairly sure he'd wanted to sell those particular items at some point, though it could also have been the slightly larger pile across the room… Or both, really. He'd have to sort through everything again.

"Well, I suppose if the traitor comes after us again we'll have plenty of warning…" Lucien doubted even he would be able to make his way around the room without making some kind of noise. Even entering the house silently would be all but impossible with how much the door creaked. It may not have been an ideal living space, but his Silencer had been right in thinking it would serve as an excellent defense against an enemy that relied on stealth to approach his victims.

"…If that was meant to be a compliment, you need to practice being positive," Remy sighed, "We can't all live in giant, abandoned forts, you know."

Lucien chuckled, drawing the Dunmer closer to him, "My apologies, Silencer… I do hope you will allow me to repair the situation.

"That depends entirely on how you plan to repair it," Remy replied, planting a firm kiss on the Imperial's lips. He may not have been particularly fond of being referred to by his rank instead of his name, but he couldn't deny that he liked the way Lucien said it. Or just about anything, really. He just liked the man's voice in general.

"It seems as though you have a few ideas…" the Imperial purred, nipping sharply at the pointed tip of one of the Dunmer's ears.

Remy couldn't stop himself from squeaking at the combination of pleasure and pain that the action caused, blushing a deep shade of violet at the knowing smirk Lucien gave him. One of these days, he was going to have the man at his mercy and see just how he liked it, but that day was not today. He allowed himself to be pushed down onto his bed, and enjoyed the thorough ravishing he'd come to expect from Lucien. He couldn't think of a way he'd rather have let go of the tension he'd felt earlier that day, and it was quite effective at keeping him from thinking about how close he'd come to not being alive to enjoy it.

For the next few weeks, Remy and Lucien had an uneventful existence, only leaving the Dunmer's home when there were large amounts of people around and there was more than enough light to see by outside. While it did take some getting used to, the limited space they had available proved to be less of an inconvenience than either had thought. There were more than enough chairs and surfaces that made good enough places to sit that they could have acceptable amounts of personal space if they needed it, and if either found the small space too oppressive, the Imperial City's sizeable population made it safe enough to go out alone at most hours of the day. Neither of them were particularly fond of the arrangement, but they had received word that three more members of the Black Hand, Shaleez, Alval Uvani, and Havilstein Hoar-Blood, Arquen's newly promoted Silencer, had been murdered by the traitor, and they didn't want to take any chances.

It was on one such occasion that, feeling somewhat nauseated by a particularly pungent poison Lucien had been making, Remy decided to go for a walk around the city. Or at least, he hoped that the poison's smell was to blame. He was going to have to have a word with his child if this became a regular thing. As he passed the Temple of the One, marveling at how close the roof was to being fully rebuilt after the epic battle that had reduced it to rubble, he suddenly remembered that he had a suit of Imperial Dragon Armor that he really needed to be picking up. That he probably should have picked up weeks ago, in fact. And needed to check the fit of before his midsection started expanding.

He made his way to the Imperial Palace, expecting to have to speak to Chancellor Ocato before picking the armor up, but was directed to the Imperial Legion Armory in the Prison District as soon as he informed the guards who he was. Pink hair did have its conveniences; there were few enough people that matched his description that simply showing up and looking like himself were proof enough of his identity.

When he reached the Prison District, he was allowed into the Armory without question, where he found his armor neatly arranged on a table at the back of the room. While it all looked like it was about the right size, and he was fairly sure he'd never actually wear the stuff considering how elaborate and eye-catching it was, he decided it was best to try it on anyway, just in case. While everything looked fine, a look at his reflection in a polished shield confirmed his suspicions that he looked utterly ridiculous wearing the armor. Lightweight as it was, it had been designed in such a way that it looked heavy, and was far too bulky for his liking. Granted, that could have just been a result of him being used to his Shrouded and Arena armors, but still.

He lost no time in changing back into said Arena armor, and tucked the Imperial Dragon monstrosity into his pack. Hopefully Ocato wouldn't be too offended if he didn't wear it everywhere…

As he left the Armory, his initial plan was to simply return to his house and hope that the smell was gone but, as he passed through the Arena District, something stopped him. Much as he hated to admit it, he had missed the thrill that carrying out contracts gave him, and he had no guarantee that the traitor would be caught and new ones sent out again while he was still physically capable of assassin work. While it may not have been exactly the same, Arena fights did give him a similar feeling to assassinations, and he had plenty of time for a quick fight before returning home. Of course, said fight was going to be against the Grand Champion, and had a good chance of ending badly for him, for some reason he couldn't bring himself to care. As though compelled by some unseen force, he made his way into the Bloodworks.

"By Shinji, you did it! You beat them all! You're a Champion! My friend, you have brought honor to the Blue Team in ways I can't even describe!" the friendly Dunmer Gladiator who still had yet to reveal his name greeted him. If the man hadn't seemed to be fully sane otherwise, Remy would have questioned whether there was something seriously wrong with his mind…

"Thanks," Remy replied, unsure how to react in response to such praise, "If everything goes well today, it'll be Grand Champion… And if not, corpse."

"Oh… I see. Best of luck to you, then…" the other elf's usually enthusiastic tone had suddenly fallen flat, and he walked away before Remy could say anything else.

Confused, Remy approached Agronak gro-Malog, having to lightly tap the Orc's shoulder to break his attention away from his training.

"Hail, friend! Good to see you again. I hope the Arena has been as good to you as it's been to me. What brings you back to the Imperial City?" Agronak asked, smiling brightly at him.

"Um… I was hoping I could challenge you, if that's alright…" Remy replied, once again unsure of what he was supposed to say. He'd never really talked to anyone else he'd fought before, and telling someone he wanted to kill them just seemed… wrong, somehow.

"As I expected. I accept your challenge! Speak to Ysabel and let her know when you're ready, and I shall make for the Arena. Shinji be with us both!" the Orc said, still smiling brightly as he walked away from the dummy he'd been chipping away at and towards the door to the Arena.

Remy stared after him for a moment, trying to comprehend how anyone could sound so… cheerful about an impending fight to the death. Then again, he was the one who'd initiated it out of sheer boredom, so he supposed he was acting just as strangely. At least he didn't have to feel guilty about it that way, though… If anything, Agronak seemed more enthusiastic about their upcoming fight than he was.

His mind still boggled, Remy approached Ysabel, the Arena Battle Matron. He'd never spoken to her before, but he knew if she was anything like Owyn he'd be in for a near-infinite string of insults. Or at the very least, an obvious severe lack of confidence in his abilities. He really needed to find some way to look more threatening. Maybe if he grew a beard… No, that would have just looked silly. Beards and pink were two things that would never go together well. Though it might have been useful in getting his enemies to laugh themselves to death…

"So you've actually challenged the Gray Prince? Do you really know what you've gotten yourself into?" Ysabel asked, snapping him back to the matter at hand.

"Well, not really… But that's never stopped me before. Not knowing what I'm getting myself into seems to be my special talent, really… It seems to be working out fairly well for me, all things considered."

"Agronak gro-Malog is the best fighter ever to step into an Arena. He can't be beaten! Not by you! But if you want to fight him, that's your right…"

"Well, that was the plan…"

Ysabel just scowled. "It's your funeral. Just make sure you understand our rules of competition for this match. Fighting the Grand Champion, well… The rules are a bit different."

"What kind of different?"

"There are no disqualifications in a Grand Champion match. That means you can wear whatever armor you damn well please. Agronak will be wearing his Raiment of Valor, and he's probably got it heavily enchanted, so feel free to do the same to any armor you have. Now, as you know, in any standard Arena match you're forbidden from looting the corpse of a fallen opponent. Well this ain't any standard match. In the event that you beat the Gray Prince, you're to remove his armor and present it to me. Then you'll get your own Raiment of Valor."

"Am I allowed to take his weapons, too, or just the armor?"

"You can take whatever you damn well please. I'd be more worried about not getting slaughtered within the first minute of the match than what you're going to do with the spoils after it if I were you."

"Just asking…" Remy mumbled. Owyn may have been standoffish at first, but at least he'd been somewhat good-natured about it. Gods, the man even seemed to like him now… "Can I start the match now?"

"Not without a name."

"…But I have a name."

"An Arena name," Ysabel sighed, "Something catchy, something the people of Cyrodiil will remember when they tell stories about your inglorious defeat! So, what's it going to be?"

"Um… Sir Slaughter?" Remy knew how ridiculous it sounded as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was the best thing he'd been able to think of. Well, the only thing, really. But still.

"Sir Slaughter, huh? I like it! Yeah, that'll do nicely. All right, it's time to see if you're crazy good or just plain crazy. The Gray Prince is headed up to the Arena as we speak. Go up there and meet him, one Champion to the next. May the Divines have mercy on your soul."

Remy didn't need to be told twice, scurrying away from Ysabel and toward the Arena as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. He had the distinct impression that she hated him, and had no desire to stick around that kind of hostility any longer than he absolutely had to. While it was nice to have the option to wear something else, his Arena armor seemed like the best choice for his upcoming fight, and it saved him the trouble of fiddling with the endless ties of his Shrouded armor.

\- Meanwhile… -

Lucien had finished his poison and, seeing as it was still early in the evening, decided to leave the small, stuffy shed he'd been calling home for almost a month. He had no idea what his Silencer had paid for the place, but he was certain it had been far too much.

With no contracts coming in, and being unable to do anything but sit idly by as his family members were slaughtered by the traitor, he was growing increasingly bored and tense. Having his Silencer so close at hand had kept either feeling from getting out of hand, but he was still far more frustrated than he wanted to be. What he really needed was a nice bit of bloodshed, and as he couldn't shed said blood himself for the time being, he'd content himself with watching it, instead.

The Arena was more crowded than usual that day, but he still managed to find himself a seat that wasn't too close to any of his fellow audience members. If the conversations around him were anything to go by, some fool had gone and challenged the Grand Champion. He doubted the fight would last long, but at least he knew that the end should be satisfyingly messy, if the Orc's previous work was anything to go by.

His anticipation was replaced by an irritatingly familiar feeling of dread, however, when the Grand Champion's challenger emerged from his gate. He'd have recognized that pink hair anywhere, and a death match against a bloodthirsty Orc was among the last places he'd have wanted to see it. He forced himself to watch as the fight progressed, and his Silencer avoided attack after attack from the Gray Prince while trying to get in close enough to strike at the Orc with his dagger.

The fight went on for over an hour, with neither combatant managing to do more than lightly scratch each other until Remy did something impossibly stupid. Abandoning what little self-preservation instincts he possessed, the Dunmer ran directly at the Grand Champion, narrowly avoiding getting his head taken off by a mighty slice of the Orc's blade, and shoved his dagger deep into his opponent's chest. The Gray Prince staggered back a few steps, staring incredulously at the hilt of the dagger protruding from his chest, then fell to the ground, dead.

Remy lost no time in gathering both the Orc's weapons and his own, stripping his fallen opponent's body, and vanishing through the gate he'd entered the Arena from. Lucien was among the first of the spectators to leave, and hid himself in the shadows cast by the Arena's walls while he waited for his Silencer to start his walk home. When Remy emerged from the Bloodworks, wearing what appeared to be a lighter version of the former Grand Champion's armor, he trailed behind the Dunmer until the two of them were alone in a reasonably shadowed alley and slammed him into a wall.

"Ow…" Remy groaned, rubbing at the back of his head where it had collided with said wall, "By the Nine, why would you do that?"

"I could be asking you that same question," Lucien growled, knotting his fingers in the Dunmer's hair far too tightly for it to be at all comfortable for him and drawing their faces close together. "What in Sithis' name were you thinking back there?!"

"I just wanted something to do…" Remy whimpered, struggling to free himself, "Let go… Please… I'm sorry!"

Lucien just tightened his grip, "And what if I had watched you get cut to pieces in that Arena? Would you be 'sorry' then, too?"

"Didn't die, though… I won. It hurts… Stop… Won't do it again, I promise…"

Lucien sighed, releasing the Dunmer and taking a step back. He'd intended to give his Silencer a lecture, not try and scalp him, but his anger at Remy for scaring him like that again had gotten the better of him. It was bad enough when his orders caused his Silencer to come uncomfortably close to death, but when the Dunmer's own choices led him to such a situation, it was infinitely worse. Still, he'd never felt more than irritated when Remy had put himself in harm's way or used questionable, if not outright insane, methods to kill someone before. What had changed?

The Imperial found himself taking another step back, followed by several more until he was leaning against the wall opposite his Silencer for support. He realized that he knew exactly why he'd had such an unusually strong reaction to the Dunmer's stupidity this time, and exactly what his lust and mild fascination with his Silencer had, entirely without his consent, developed into. This was not good. Assassins did not love anyone; love was a weakness, love would get you killed if you weren't careful. He'd managed to avoid falling into that trap for his entire life, and yet somehow a recruit he hadn't wanted in the first place had wormed his way into his affections, had somehow ended up with his heart in his hands. And it had happened at the worst possible time, when assassins as skilled as he was, and far above the still unrefined talent of his Silencer, were being slaughtered like cattle at the hands of a traitor.

"Are you all right? I didn't give you a heart attack, did I?" Remy asked, mercifully unaware of what had caused the man's actions.

"I'm not that old, Silencer," Lucien replied, straightening his posture and stepping away from the wall that had been his crutch.

"Well, no, but you're older than I am. Probably significantly. And you've been under a lot of stress lately."

"I am not having a heart attack. And for all I know, you're over a hundred," well, he doubted the Dunmer was any older than thirty at the most (and even that was pushing it, given his usual level of grace and maturity), but he wasn't about to let him get away with calling him old. He almost would have preferred that his Silencer picked up on the real reason behind his actions, even if it would have meant making himself vulnerable.

"Gods, no! I'm twenty."

"And I'm nowhere near old enough to have to worry about heart attacks."

"Point taken… Why were you acting so strangely, then?"

Damn. Of course his Silencer would have chosen that exact moment to start analyzing his behavior. "That's not important right now. Let's go home, before it gets any darker."

"Fine," the Dunmer sighed, "Sorry for caring about you."


	26. Chapter 26

Remy was quiet as they made their way back to the Waterfront, trying to make sense of what had just happened between him and Lucien. Once they were back inside his house, he considered asking the Imperial why he'd acted so strangely earlier again, but the discovery of a note that had been slipped under his door stopped him. When said note turned out to be instructions from the Listener to come to Bravil for a Black Hand meeting, he wasn't sure how to feel.

"This is a good thing, right?" he asked as he and Lucien hurried to the stables.

"I do not know. The traitor may have been caught and brought to justice, but it is equally possible that the meeting has simply been called to ensure that the Black Hand has not lost any more fingers."

"Oh," the answer wasn't at all what the Dunmer had been hoping for, but he supposed he should have expected as much. "At the risk of sounding disloyal, if the Night Mother talks to the Listener, why doesn't she just tell him who the traitor is?"

"Because her purpose in speaking to the Listener is to guide the Brotherhood, not run it for us. She cares for us as her children, and wants to keep us strong, even if that means letting those of us who are too weak or dim-witted to protect ourselves from the traitor or uncover his identity die. It was this same willingness to sacrifice her children that won her her place as the wife of our Dread Father. If you'd prefer a deity that coddles its followers, than you have joined the wrong guild."

"I guess that's fair enough. I don't think any of the Divines ever liked me much, anyway."

"I can't imagine why," a ghost of a smile passed over Lucien's face as he mounted Shadowmere and pulled Remy up behind him.

"And here I was thinking that she was supposed to be my horse now."

"If you wish for our positions to be reversed, you need only ask, my Silencer."

"I think I'll just stay where I am. She listens to you better than me. ...Does that offer only apply to this particular situation, or could I request it in… other places, as well?"

"I'd like to see you try that in your current state…"

"It was just a thought for when I'm back to normal. Besides, it's your fault I'm stuck like this, anyway."

"Really? As I recall, you were the one who decided you wanted to be a woman. And the one who insisted on trying out that new body of yours…"

"All right, so we're equally guilty. Either way, I am not staying like this for a second longer than I have to. And once I'm back to normal, I'd like to know exactly what that offer of yours applies to."

"I suppose I might consider applying it to other things, depending on how well you carry your contracts out."

"In that case, I'll be the best Silencer in the history of the Dark Brotherhood," Remy replied, a smile spreading across his face at the few moments of laughter his Speaker had upon hearing his words. For a moment, everything seemed to be back to the way it was before the traitor had switched his dead drop orders, and he actually found himself enjoying the ride to Bravil.

It was late when they made it into the city, and they lost no time in making their way to Ungolim's house. It seemed that fate had other plans in mind, however, when an arrow embedded itself in the side of a house inches away from them. Remy saw a brief flash of movement on a nearby building and took off in that direction, ignoring Lucien's shouted orders to stay close to him. The Imperial could be angry with him all he wanted later; the traitor hadn't caught him unarmed and half-dressed this time, and he wasn't going to let him get away if he could help it.

As he rounded the corner of the house, he saw a shadowed figure take off down an alley, and dashed after it. The chase led him down several more such alleyways, and he was thoroughly lost when the last alley he entered was a dead end, his way blocked by a tall, wooden fence that there was no way the traitor could have climbed. He'd lost Lucien somewhere along the way, and was now completely alone. As he wondered whether he'd lost the traitor somewhere, he heard a noise behind him, and whirled around to find none other than Ungolim standing between him and the only way out of the alley, his bow drawn.

"Listener! By Sithis, am I glad to see you. The traitor just tried to kill my Speaker and I, and think he's still somewhere nearby. If we both look, maybe we can still find him!" He said, his delight at his good fortune slowly fading as the Bosmer kept his bow drawn.

Ungolim sighed. "Unfortunate little puppet… You showed such promise; it's a shame it had to end like this."

"What are you talking about? There's still time; if we start looking for the traitor again now-"

"Your loyalty has blinded you. The traitor is none other than your Speaker, Lucien Lachance! I know that he is dear to you, but unless you want your life to be forfeit as well as his, you must help me find and kill him before he can strike again."

"But that's ridiculous! I'm not going to kill Lucien when I know he's innocent. He's been with me this whole time, he couldn't possibly have-"

"Then I am afraid your fate is sealed. I am truly sorry, Silencer, but your misplaced loyalty has cost you your life." Ungolim drew his arrow back slightly farther, took a deep breath, and let it fly.

Remy managed to throw himself far enough out of its path to keep himself alive, but it still grazed his shoulder, painfully tearing through his flesh. He stumbled, fell over backwards into a rotted crate. Its jagged edges dug into the backs of his knees, and he wished he'd had time to change back into his Shrouded armor before leaving his house. His attempts to get up only resulted in him filling his hands with splinters and covering the backs of his legs with scratches from the crate's edge. There was no hope of escaping another of the Listener's arrows. He cursed himself for getting so far away from Lucien, and for his inability to reason with the Listener. "Can't we talk this over?" he asked as the Bosmer took a step closer to him, fitting another arrow to his bowstring.

"You had your chance, Silencer. Now your choice is made, and you will have to live with the consequences. Lachance will suffer as a traitor deserves, but you are deserving of a more merciful end. Now hold still, and I'll make this as painless as possible.

The Dunmer did as he was told, clamping his eyes shut and grinding his teeth together to stop himself from whimpering as he waited to feel the arrow pierce his body. He knew it was stupid, but he didn't want to look as afraid as he felt. At least that way he could die with some form of dignity.

The pain he'd expected never came, though, and he eventually opened his eyes to find Ungolim standing there, bow and arrow still in hand, with his face frozen in a look of shock. Moments later, he fell to the ground, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his back. Remy tensed, fully expecting the traitor to materialize and claim his life next, but when the Listener's killer made himself visible once more he found himself looking at not the traitor, but Lucien.

"This is why I ordered you to stay near me, Silencer. Had I arrived but a moment later, I would have been too late," the Imperial said, gazing down at him with an unreadable look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry…" Remy replied, wincing in pain as he tried and failed to get up again. "I think you still are too late. He thought you were the traitor…"

"So I heard." Lucien clasped the hand of the Dunmer's good arm and pulled him to his feet. "He would never have believed such an accusation unless it came from a member of the Black Hand, however, which narrows our list of suspects significantly. The traitor has done us a favor today. Let us hope that it is not too late."

"Even if we did know which one of them did it, what could we do? The traitor has the rest of the Black Hand convinced that you're the guilty one."

"If we had evidence supporting our claim, we might be able to convince them otherwise. If we just knew who was truly behind the killings…" Lucien's voice trailed off as he realized exactly who the traitor was. There was only one remaining member of the Black Hand capable of committing such atrocities, of sending so many brothers and sisters to such grisly ends with enough skill and precision to keep himself from suspicion. He'd trained the boy himself, had practically been a father to him… He didn't want to believe it, but he could no longer be blinded by his affection for his former protégé. Perhaps he was wrong, he hoped he was, but it was the best lead he had. "I have a job for you, Silencer."

"What is it?"

"You are to journey to the city of Anvil, and gain admittance to the cellar of its lighthouse by any means necessary. Search it for any sign that is owner is the traitor. Whether you find evidence or not, you are then to meet me at Applewatch, the farm where you killed the old Draconis woman. It should be empty, and safe."

"Why aren't we going together? You said it yourself that it's dangerous to be alone. I'm not leaving you."

"For once in your life, Remy, do what you're told! We haven't much time; I will be hunted day and night by the Black Hand once they realize what has happened. This is our only chance to collect the evidence we need, and my presence will make that impossible. I have to draw them away to give you the time you will need. I can remain hidden at Applewatch long enough for you to complete your task and return to me."

"Alright, I'll go," Remy said, not at all happy with the arrangement. He truly feared for his Speaker's life, and didn't know what he'd do if he lost the man he, he'd only just realized, had come to love. He knew there was no chance that Lucien felt the same way, and that there was little chance that any good would come of it, but he couldn't stop himself from continuing, "In case this is the last time I have with you, I need to tell you that I-"

He was cut off by a bruising kiss from the Imperial. "There will be time enough for that later. Now go! And may Sithis help us all!" And with that, Lucien cast a Chameleon spell over himself and hurried out of the city before the Dunmer could catch his breath. He'd known that if he'd allowed his Silencer to finish speaking, he never would have been able to leave him, and all would have been lost. He just hoped that all wasn't lost already…

Remy remained in the city just long enough to rub a healing potion into his wounds. While he was still sore, he knew that they were unlikely to reopen, and he had no time to take better care of himself. When he reached the stables, he saw that Lucien had left Shadowmere for him, and stolen a different horse for his own journey. The mare seemed to be aware that something was seriously wrong, and didn't do more than glance at his hair as he mounted her. A quick nudge to her sides and she was racing toward Anvil.

They made it to the city stables a few hours later, and Remy was on the ground and running for the gates before Shadowmere had fully stopped. He was grateful for how deserted the streets were at such an early hour, and arrived at the lighthouse far more quickly than he could have during the day. The cellar door was securely locked, and after several attempts at breaking in he realized that he wouldn't be getting in without a key. He entered the lighthouse, and almost collided with its keeper as the man exited his bedroom.

"Well now, what might you want?" the Nord asked.

"The key to the cellar! Now!"

"What? What's the meaning of this? What's going on here?" For a moment, the man looked as though he was going to refuse to grant the Dunmer's request, but upon seeing the look of desperation on his face seemed to change his mind. "I don't want no trouble! Here, take the damn key!"

Remy snatched the key out of his hand and ran back to the cellar, breathing a sigh of relief when the door swung open easily. His relief soon dissipated, however, when he reached the bottom of the stairs leading into the cellar and saw what was waiting for him.

Several bodies, both human and animal, in various states of decay and mutilation littered the room, and it was all he could do to keep himself from vomiting. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, and not the horrors surrounding him, he made his way through the room until he came to another door. The cellar key didn't fit the lock, but he was able to pick it fairly easily, and it swung open to reveal a crazed, snarling dog. He put the poor creature out of its misery and stepped over its corpse into the room, where his attention was immediately drawn to a severed head sitting on what looked like some kind of shrine.

The head looked older than the rest of the corpses he'd seen, but had been preserved in some way that slowed the rotting process. On another table near the chair sitting in front of the shrine was a book that revealed itself to be a diary when Remy opened it. After flipping through its pages, it was clear that it belonged to the traitor, who had become obsessed with getting revenge on Lucien and the Dark Brotherhood after his mother's death. The diary seemed like evidence enough, and Remy shoved it into his pack before fleeing the cellar, hoping that he wasn't too late to save Lucien.

Shadowmere was waiting for him at the stables, and he lost no time in hopping onto her back and getting her moving in the direction of Bruma. He was utterly exhausted, but there was no time for sleep. Far too much later for his liking, Applewatch finally came into view and, as he dismounted, it seemed like he had arrived in time. There were no signs that anyone was in the house, or had been since he fulfilled the Draconis contract.

Feeling pleased with himself, he opened the door and walked in, only to come face-to-face with Arquen. She was quite a bit taller than he was, and he couldn't see past her into the room, but he knew that if she was there, it couldn't mean anything good.

"Silencer! At last you've arrived! Fear not, for the crisis that has threatened the Dark Brotherhood has finally come to an end. As you can see, we have dealt with the betrayer, Lucien Lachance! It seems Lachance wanted revenge against the Dark Brotherhood for some reason, but now, we can begin anew! I bestow upon you the title of Speaker. You will take Lucien Lachance's place on the Black Hand! Welcome! As you know, the Black Hand is now in a state of disarray. We five, including you, are now all that remain. Even worse, we don't have a Listener! The Black Hand without a Listener is like a hand with no thumb. Even the Listener is successor is dead! So, we have no choice but to invoke an ancient ritual. We must wake the Night Mother from her slumber, and seek her guidance! Between the hours of midnight and three in the morning, we will away to our Lady's home. Only then will the ritual begin," the Altmer said, grinning from ear to ear as she handed him a set of black robes almost identical to the ones Lucien had always worn..

"W-what did you to do him?" Remy asked, struggling to keep his voice level. Maybe he wasn't too late, maybe they'd just tortured Lucien, and he was still alive enough to heal...

"Why don't you have a look? When we confronted Lachance he tried to defend himself, tried to declare his innocence! But we would not hear his treacherous lies! As you can see, he was no match for the combined power of the Black Hand, even weakened as we are," Arquen replied, stepping aside and allowing him to see into the room. Remy immediately wished that she hadn't.

Lucien, or rather, what was left of him, had been stripped naked and was hanging upside down from a one of the rafters. His hair had all been cut off or torn out, and almost nothing was left of the lower half of his face. The rest of his body hadn't fared much better. Half the skin on the man's chest was gone and his ribs, wet with blood, glistened in the lamplight. Where he still had skin, it was covered in deep lacerations. The floor beneath him was covered in puddles of blood. The other three remaining Black Hand members, Belisarius Arius, Mathieu Bellamont, and Banus Alor stood around him, all seemingly as pleased by the carnage as Arquen.

Remy sank to his knees, letting out an anguished wail. He'd gone as fast as he could, done exactly what Lucien had asked of him, but he'd failed the man all the same. And he'd done it at the one time he needed to succeed the most. Just like he'd failed Martin and the entire Cheydinhal Sanctuary... The evidence he'd found would mean nothing now; everyone else was satisfied that they'd brought the traitor to justice. All he could do was wait and hope that the Night Mother would talk some sense into them. Everything he'd done had been for nothing...

Not caring what the others thought of him, he got to his feet and crossed the room to where Lucien was hanging and set about trying to cut the man down. He deserved a proper burial, at the very least... He'd never be able to live with himself if he just left his lover hanging there. The other Speakers standing around Lucien's corpse quickly dispersed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the frenzied swipes of his dagger, but no matter how he tried the Dunmer just couldn't reach high enough to cut the rope. He was about to go and look for a chair he could move over when Arquen reached up and cut Lucien down for him.

"…Thanks," he said, trying to figure out why she'd helped him.

"It was no trouble. …I know how it feels, losing a Speaker. Even if J'Ghasta had been a traitor, I doubt I would have been able to leave his body untended. If you'd like help burying him, you need only to ask."

Remy paused for a moment, considering the Altmer's offer. On one hand, he didn't want anyone that had been involved in Lucien's wrongful execution to help with burying him, but on the other he knew that he'd have trouble giving the man a decent burial on his own. In the end, his desire to give his lover a fitting resting place won out over his anger at Arquen's earlier actions. "Some help would be nice. …Do you think you could look for a shovel while I move him outside?"

"Of course."

Remy found a spare blanket and rolled Lucien's body onto it, dragging him out the front door and to the base of a tree before wrapping the cloth around him. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. He doubted there was much left of the man's Black Hand robes, anyway. Arquen soon joined him, carrying a shovel and a hoe with her, and together they managed to chip a reasonably deep hole into the cold, hard earth. Once the Speaker's body had been placed in the grave and thoroughly buried, they sat back to admire their work.

"Thanks for helping," Remy said after a long silence. "I don't think I could have done this without you."

"Even traitors deserve to be laid to rest somewhere. Lachance paid the price for his actions in the manner of his death, and will continue to do so in the Void. Giving him a proper burial will not change that." Upon noticing the way Remy cringed at her words, she continued, "I know you do not believe he was guilty, and I can't help but think that you cared for him as more than just your Speaker. I am truly sorry that things had to end this way."

Remy sighed. It was the closest thing to another member of the Black Hand accepting that Lucien hadn't been a traitor that he was going to get out of them. "So am I…"

"I am sure that you will be just as great a Speaker as he was."

"I'm not," the Dunmer said, still despairing over his failure. "I've failed to keep just one person alive. Twice. How am I supposed to stop an entire Sanctuary from dying? I'm just a whore; I should never have left the Waterfront."

"And what does being a whore have to do with leading a Sanctuary?" Arquen snapped. "You're not the only one who's made their living that way, you know. If that's going to be your attitude about your new rank, you may as well just throw yourself in that grave with Lachance and save any assassins you may have commanded from your apathy."

Remy snapped out of his haze of misery as though he'd been struck. Much as he wanted to hate the Altmer, she'd helped him when no one else would, and hadn't been content to let him sulk. Under any other circumstances, he'd have liked her. Might even have been her friend. Maybe he still could, given enough time. "I guess prostitution really does lead to murder, then. Maybe the guards are on to something…"

"What?"

"Sorry. Bad joke. It makes sense in context, I swear…"

Arquen smiled, getting to her feet. "That's better. I'm going back inside; come in whenever you're ready." And with that, Remy was alone again.

He sat beside Lucien's grave for a time and, finally alone, curled up on top of the loosely-packed dirt covering it and had himself a good cry. When he had no more tears left to shed he stood, dusted himself off as best he could, and returned to the farmhouse. He'd lost what was probably the only person he'd ever love, and he doubted he'd ever truly get over it, but he knew that Lucien wouldn't have wanted him to spend the rest of his life moping about it. It probably would have made the man angry, really. And he may have failed his Speaker while he lived, but he'd be damned if he let the man down after his death, as well. He'd wait for the traitor to make his next move, and then send him to the Void. He was sure that Lucien would take care of things from there.

Remy spent the rest of the day asleep or simply lounging on what used to be Perennia Draconis' bed, trying to regain his strength and prepare for whatever would happen when he and the rest of the Black Hand visited the Night Mother's crypt.

When midnight finally came, Arquen gathered what was left of the Black Hand together and performed some sort of ritual that transported them to the statue of the Lucky Old Lady in Bravil. She then recited an incantation, and the statue twisted and warped itself to transform from a cloaked woman surrounded by happy children to an imposing wraith that had snuffed out the lives of the tiny, crumpled bodies lying beneath it. The change revealed a trapdoor in the statue's base, and the five of them climbed down through it and into the tomb beneath.

A blue, glowing shade of what might have been a Dunmer woman appeared in front of them. After berating Arquen and the others for mistaking Lucien for the real traitor, she made it clear that no new Listener would be chosen until the real traitor had been killed. In the chaos that followed, one voice rang out over all the others.

"Enough! Enough of this! You will all suffer for the pain you have caused me! I will destroy your Night Mother, and the Dark Brotherhood will fall!"

When Remy turned to look at the source of the voice, he found himself staring directly into the eyes of Mathieu Bellamont. They held the same intense stare that he'd been given at the Black Hand meeting. Before the Dunmer could move, Mathieu had fatally wounded both Banus Alor and Belisarius Arius, and lunged toward the Night Mother.

"Do not let him harm the Night Mother! Kill him!" Arquen cried, throwing herself between the Breton and the Night Mother's ghostly form.

Remy didn't need to be told twice, crossing the distance between himself and Mathieu with a speed he didn't know he possessed, and driving his dagger into the man's back. Mathieu fell to the floor, clearly on the verge of death, but the Dunmer couldn't stop himself from stabbing the man's chest several times and slitting his throat, just to be sure. It was a merciful end compared to what he'd given to Lucien, but at least it was something. He wiped his dagger clean on Mathieu's robes, stood, and turned to face the Night Mother.

"So, at last we meet. I have been following your strange journey through the Dark Brotherhood, young one. Your killing of the old man, Baenlin... the execution of Adamus Phillida... the way you stalked and murdered each member of the Draconis family... Your Purification of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary," the Night Mother said.

Remy just stood there, not fully trusting himself to speak after the bloodlust that had briefly overtaken him.

"Ah, you choose to play the stoic, hmm? You remain silent even when faced with my terrible countenance? Your silent obedience is to be commended. If only my other children had offered such reverence. You see, I have known of Mathieu Bellamont's intentions since he was just a boy. I knew of his thirst for vengeance. I could have informed my Listener. But I refused! Refused to reward such incompetence! Ungolim was weak. Indeed, I allowed Mathieu Bellamont to proceed on his destructive course. Just as I allowed you to intercept him."

"But… But why?" Remy still had a hard time understanding how anyone, wife of Sithis or not, could allow so many people she saw as her children to die.

"Don't you see? Our Dread Father foresaw your defeat of the traitor, here in this very crypt! You have been chosen! You are to be my new Listener! You possess strength, and cunning, and a heart as black as midnight. You were marked by Sithis the moment you emerged from your mother's womb."

"So, what happens now?"

"Go. Take a few moments to collect yourself. Meditate upon all that has transpired. Help yourself to any treasures this crypt may offer. When you are ready, speak with me again, and I will deliver you safely to the only place you can truly call home - the Cheydinhal Sanctuary! There is much work to be done. When you are back in the Sanctuary, speak with Arquen. She will serve as your humble servant and guide."

Remy nodded, still reeling from all that had just happened, and went to have a look around the crypt. Arquen seemed to be in a similar state, leaning against a wall and staring at the three corpses strewn across the floor. After picking through the room's contents and collecting a few weapons and items that looked useful or as though they'd fetch a good price, the Dunmer returned to the Night Mother, ready to go back to the land of the living.

"You've returned. I trust you've weighed the importance of your new position. For you will soon hear words that will change lives, alter destinies. And I hope you've taken everything you desire from my crypt. Once you leave, you will be unable to return. Now, are you ready to begin your new life?"

"I'm ready. Send me to the Sanctuary."

"Very good! Now begins your true journey! We will soon become very intimate, you and I! Ha ha ha ha ha!" Remy shuddered at the delight the Night Mother seemed to take in his discomfort. Once her laughter had died down, the Night Mother continued, "Before I sent you away, however, I would like to present you with a rather special reward. I see you still possess the Blade of Woe, the weapon given to you by Lucien Lachance when you first met. Allow me now to unlock its true power!"

"Y-yes, Night Mother," Remy replied, digging through his pack until he found the dagger he'd had stashed in it since the first time he'd met Lucien. It had worked well enough for Rufio's assassination, but he soon discovered that it wasn't nearly as effective a weapon as almost everything else he found on the corpses of his enemies. He wasn't sure if Lucien had intentionally given him a cheap weapon, or if a merchant had actually managed to fool the Imperial into buying a cheap weapon for the price of an expensive one. Somehow, he suspected the former.

The Night Mother took the dagger from him and held it close to her for a moment, then handed it back. The Blade of Woe looked much the same as it always had, but it did feel… different, more like something that would actually be useful in a fight. It also had a faint glow to it now, much like enchanted weapons. He'd have kept it for its sentimental value even in its former form, but he couldn't deny that he was glad he might actually be able to use it again.

"Yes, you will now find the Blade of Woe a bit more... potent than it was. Though nothing I can provide could compare to the other gift you carry with you… If I were you, I'd take good care of it."

"How do you-"

"I know a great many things, child. None of my children's actions go unnoticed," the Night Mother replied, cackling at the blush that covered Remy's face. "Now go. Leave this crypt, and serve our Dread Father 'til your dying breath!"

The next thing Remy knew, he was standing in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary with Arquen.

"What was the 'other gift' the Night Mother was talking about?" Arquen asked.

"I'll tell you later," Remy replied, smiling to himself. Unsettling as she was, the Night Mother had been right. He did have more than just himself to take care of, and he wasn't about to risk losing the strongest link to Lucien he had left. Just another few months, and he'd have another person he desperately wanted to keep alive. And this time, he wouldn't fail.


	27. Chapter 27

-170 years later-

Remy awoke to find himself sprawled out in the palace gardens of New Sheoth. He tried to sit up and fell back to the ground, groaning in pain. He couldn't name a single part of his body that didn't hurt after being burned, frozen, and electrocuted within an inch of his life. That had been the point, though; the spell that returned him to his palace in the Shivering Isles wouldn't have worked otherwise.

He supposed that the somewhat excessive number of agents the Thalmor had sent after him were figuring out that he'd just been a distraction right about then, and what was left of Cyrodiil's armies had at least a slightly better chance against the Thalmor's main force. Even if he hadn't accomplished anything, he'd done all he could for Tamriel, and was more than ready to be done with his life there.

He'd served as the Dark Brotherhood's Listener for ten years, until he couldn't handle the painful memories it kept dredging up, and it had been doing extremely well the last time he'd heard anything about it. More importantly, the Dunmer had looked after he and Lucien's son for far longer than he needed to, and had no doubt that he'd be able to take care of himself from then on. And, as Haskill had said, Remy had reverted back to and remained in his usual, male body not long after his child was born.

Wincing at the pain it caused him, Remy felt around on the grass beside him for his pack, and dragged it closer to himself once he found it. After a bit of rummaging, he located the stash of healing potions he kept there, and had himself feeling almost as good as new soon afterward. Once that was done, he made his way into the palace that would serve as his home for however much longer he was going to exist, and tried to find his way to the throne room so he could start his career as Sheogorath. He supposed he could have just summoned Haskill, but he wanted his return to be a surprise.

As he wandered down one of the palace's seemingly infinite hallways, he suddenly found himself being gripped tightly and pinned against a wall by an unseen force. In a panic, he desperately strained against his assailant's hold on him, but was unable to free enough of himself to escape.

"I see you still need to develop a better awareness of your surroundings," a familiar voice purred, and the Dunmer's fear was replaced an overwhelming surge of hope and longing.

"L-Lucien?" he asked, hardly able to breathe. He was suddenly grateful that he was still firmly pressed against the wall; he doubted he'd have been able to remain standing, otherwise.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Lucien finally ended his Chameleon spell and released the Dunmer. He looked exactly as Remy had remembered him, smug grin and all.

"But… how? Aren't you supposed to be in the Void?"

"I have been there for the last hundred and seventy years. However, Sithis and the Night Mother felt that we deserved a reward for our loyalty and service to the Dark Brotherhood. I am permitted to remain here for as long as you are willing to have me, on the condition that I will be available as a summons to any living Dark Brotherhood member that Sithis deems worthy."

"That sounds fair," Remy said, wrapping his arms around the Imperial and clinging to him as tightly as he could. "I thought I'd never see you again…"

Lucien returned his embrace with equal enthusiasm. "I feared the same thing. I've missed you, Remy…"

"I missed you, too."

They just stood there for a time, content to simply enjoy being able to touch each other again. Once each had assured himself that the other wasn't going to vanish and leave him alone again, they drew apart.

"We have a son, you know," Remy said, breaking the silence.

"What's he like?"

"Well, he looks ordinary enough. Bluish-gray skin, pink hair-he dyes it red most of the time, though. Don't know why; he ended up with a much less bright shade than I did, lucky bastard-, red eyes. He's taller than me, too," the Dunmer replied. The Imperial was paying attention to him more intently than he ever had before, and while he was initially a bit annoyed that Lucien seemed more interested in their child than him, Remy supposed he'd probably be acting the same way if he'd missed out on a hundred and seventy years of his child's life. "He's good with a sword, and more consistent at archery than I am. Pretty damn sneaky, too, when he wants to be. I've probably convinced him that you were some kind of god in human form."

"What did you name him?"

"Marcel. It was my adoptive mother's name." Upon seeing the confused look Lucien was giving him, he continued, "It works for both genders. And I figured I may as well continue continue our pattern of illogical Breton names."

"Fair enough..."

"...And I hope you're not too disappointed, but he isn't part of the Dark Brotherhood. I wanted to keep him out of it if I could... I was afraid of him ending up like you did," Remy said, blushing as he averted his gaze from Lucien. He knew it was silly for him to think that keeping Marcel out of the Dark Brotherhood would keep him safe, and they'd ended up in plenty of situations more dangerous than any contract they could have been sent on, but he'd never been able to think of Marcel joining the Dark Brotherhood without thinking of him meeting the same fate that Lucien had at Applewatch.

"Remy..." Lucien stroked the Dunmer's cheek, wiping away a tear he didn't know he'd shed. "You would need to do far worse than that to disappoint me. Wanting to protect our child is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I think it protected me more than him... I never could have lived with myself if I hadn't been able to keep him alive. Not after I'd already failed so many people..."

"What happened at Applewatch was not your fault. Nor was the fate of our brothers and sisters in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. Or your Septim friend, for that matter," Lucien replied, silencing any protest the Dunmer might have made with a kiss.

"I love you..." Remy murmured, resting his head on the Imperial's shoulder.

"I love you, too."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't have left the Void for you if I didn't," Lucien replied, running his fingers through the Dunmer's hair.

Remy smiled. "I don't think there's any way today could get any better."

"Really?" Lucien asked, abandoning the Dunmer's hair in favor of stroking the tip of his ear. "I could think of a few..."

Remy sighed contentedly, leaning into the Imperial's touch. "This is probably a bad time to tell you I have no idea where my bedroom is, isn't it?"

"I suppose we'll just have to go looking for it, then."

"I'm sure it can't be too far away..."

Luck finally seemed to be favoring the Dunmer, as he had little difficulty locating his bedroom. Officially accepting his title and the duties that came with it, however, were tasks he left for another day.


End file.
